Easier To Be Broken
by A-non.Lurker
Summary: What if the only person who can save you is yourself? But you don't know how. Or even if you want to. Canon up to 3.16. Read to find out more!
1. Livin' Just To Find Emotion

**A/N: Everything up to and including 3.16 is canon; Deals with the aftermath of the shooting, but with a twist. I know, there are a lot of fanfics with this storyline, but it wouldn't leave me alone until I committed to paper (screen!). **

**Title of the story comes from a lyric in "First Time" by Lifehouse. chapter title comes from a lyric in "Don't Stop Believin'" by Journey; none of which I can claim as mine.  
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**I don't own One Tree Hill or it's characters, merely the journey I choose to take them on. Hope you enjoy it!**

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**Ch 1: Livin' Just To Find Emotion**

_If I say…I love you…right now, will you hold it against me?_

Lucas Scott abruptly shoots awake, those words echoing in his head. He lifts a shaky hand and runs it over his face, heartbeat slightly erratic from the memory-dream he'd just had. He can't deal with this right now, he really can't. Flopping back down on his bed, he stares blankly up at the ceiling, and pushes her voice to the very back of his mind.

Everything's bad and it's all overwhelming. Last week, he was a normal high school kid; focused on getting good grades, playing basketball, dealing with his friends, and spending time with his beautiful girlfriend. But that was last week…a lot can change in a few short days. This week he hadn't even gone to school, no one had. It was still closed following the shooting that had taken place only six days before. A shooting that had left one friend injured, a former friend dead, and the entire student body in devastation.

But those issues aren't the only things taking over his mind. At the forefront is the loss of Keith. A man who was his uncle biologically, but in all the ways that matter, his father. Keith was supposed to fill that role in a legal sense with the adoption plans. He was supposed to fill that role forever, once he married Karen, the woman he'd loved his entire life—and Lucas' mom. He wasn't supposed to have been buried just yesterday, leaving them all here to grieve a good man that was taken too soon.

And he was a good man.

Lucas can't understand how Jimmy Edwards—a boy who had been his friend for years, and who'd loved Keith too—could have looked the man in the face and pulled the trigger. At least, that's how Lucas imagines it happened; no one really knows, they just guess. And they can't ask, since Jimmy turned the gun on himself right after.

That last thought sends a spear of anger through the grief-stricken blonde. Anger at the boy who caused all of this grief and confusion for everyone, except himself. The boy who took Lucas' uncle away, but wasn't man enough to face what he'd done. The boy who can't take it back.

Neither can Lucas.

Laying there, gaze still on that white ceiling, Lucas lets some silent tears fall unchecked. It's his fault. He knows Keith would not have gone back into that school, if it wasn't for him. Jimmy may have pulled the trigger, but Lucas was the reason Keith was there in the first place. And he can't take it back.

Before that thought can fester and spread the feeling of overwhelming guilt yet again, Lucas climbs out of bed. It's time to face another day. Another day of confusion, sadness, anger, and all sorts of things. He has to be strong though; his mom will need someone to lean on. Brooke—his girlfriend—will need someone to lean on. As will his brother and his best friend. So will he, but he won't think about that right now. Because his someone to lean on is dead. And thinking about that isn't helping.

After quickly (and mindlessly) getting ready to face the day, Lucas enters the kitchen to find Karen sitting at the table, staring at nothing. He knows that yesterday had been hard for her; she seemed to withdraw from everyone even more after the funeral. He sees Brooke standing at the counter pouring coffee into three mugs.

"Hey" he mumbles, sliding into a seat across from his mom.

Her eyes flitter in his direction before quickly looking away, but she doesn't say anything. Brooke sets a mug in front of both of them, grabbing the third and joining them at the table. "Hey. You hungry?"

"Not really. But thanks."

She simply nods. He doesn't know what to say to her, but he's grateful she's there. And he doesn't know how to comfort her either, or his mom. So he says nothing.

The silence that falls next is uneasy. Karen simply fiddles with the handle of her mug, not looking at either of the other two at the table. Lucas peeks at Brooke out of the corner of his eye; she seems like she's not all there, as she just stares into the depths of her coffee.

Lucas looks away. He knows one of the reasons for her uncharacteristic brooding, but he can't think about it now. Keeping his attention off of _that_ keeps a lot of his own pain away, even though it's extremely selfish of him. The tense emotions fill the silence to the point where he feels like screaming. He's not sure how much longer he can last before breaking down.

The three occupants of the kitchen all jump slightly at the brisk knock to the front door. They share resigned looks; Lucas is in no mood for company. He thinks—or knows—that Karen isn't either.

"I'll get it." Brooke offers, standing from her chair, looking a little relieved at the distraction.

Karen nods, turning her gaze in the direction of the front door. Lucas doesn't really care right now, so he keeps his attention on his coffee, willing whoever it is to just go away.

"Hi Karen."

The gruff voice causes Lucas' head to jerk up; reality just came knocking.

"Larry." Karen smiles half-heartedly, standing to briefly hug her friend. Brooke timidly enters the kitchen behind him, a look of fear crossing her face before she smoothes it out. But Lucas saw it.

"I'm so sorry about Keith. I wanted to come yesterday…but I just couldn't leave her by herself. I'm all she has."

He looks defeated, and older than Lucas knows him to be, like the past six days have drained _years_ from his life.

Brooke blinks back tears and looks at Larry with an expression of guilt. "How is she?" The question is a mere whisper, laced with worry and slight shame.

"The same." He smiles gently at her as her face falls a little. "I just really came to check in on you guys."

Karen stands suddenly, and grabs Larry's hand between both of hers. "You know you don't have to do this on your own, right? We're here for you and if you need anything, we can help. I _want_ to help if I can."

He nods. They share looks of some understanding, both having experienced their fair share of tragedy. "I know. Same goes for you."

Lucas watches the exchanges with detachment; everything is happening through a dense fog. Until one thought breaks through, causing him to frown suddenly.

"Who's with her?"

Larry glances at him, surprised, almost like he's just noticing the boy's presence.

"Lucas. I'm so sorry for your loss." He offers his hand with his next words. "And I just want to say thank you. For getting my little girl out of there."

Lucas absently takes the proffered hand, not deterred from getting an answer to his question. "Who's with her? While you're here?"

Larry shares a look with Karen, both taken aback at the ferocity in the teen's tone. He sighs. "The nurses should be changing shifts in an hour. They don't let me stay with her overnight, so I usually go back in the mornings after shift changes, since they generally clean her up first thing. I can't stay for that anyway, so I go when they're done. I just thought I'd stop in on my way there. See if you guys needed anything."

"We're…coping." Karen manages, before her chin starts quivering and she tries blinking back tears. Larry pulls her into a hug; she stiffens against him, but doesn't step away.

Brooke watches worriedly for a moment, before giving her attention to Lucas. Her eyes widen slightly when they fall on him but he doesn't notice, because he's too busy glaring at Larry, jaw set.

"So she's _alone_?" he bites out, anger growing at the thought. She doesn't deserve to be alone right now, and he had promised her that she wouldn't have to be until she was okay. And she isn't okay yet.

He stands abruptly, startling the adults in the room.

Larry frowns, "Lucas—"

He's cut off when Lucas stalks out of the room, not saying anything. Larry turns to Karen, confused. She shrugs a little; they've all been tense recently, and she hasn't been paying much attention to anything beyond her own grief lately.

Brooke bites her lip, before telling them, "I got it." She takes a deep breath, and follows her boyfriend out of the kitchen.

Lucas is angrily pulling on a sweatshirt when Brooke walks into the bedroom. She regards him worriedly. "Luke?" The question is timid, at best, and is easily ignored by the boy.

"Luke!" she grabs his arm as he goes to brush by her. "What is going on with you?"

He stares at her in disbelief. "Really, Brooke? You have to ask? That's what's on your mind?" His tone is mocking and hard, causing her to tighten her hand on his arm. He pulls his arm away roughly, feeling a flash of remorse at the brief hurt that graces her features, before he pushes that emotion aside.

"Why haven't you been to visit Peyton?" He stares at her as her face whitens.

And there it is, the million dollar question, not only aimed at her, but at himself. That's the situation that adds to his self loathing. He promised nothing would happen to her. Yes, he got her out of that school alive, but something _did_ happen to her. She won't wake up. It's been six days, and she's not awake. No one knows why, exactly.

And, apparently, _no one_ has gone to see her.

Brooke blinks back tears and tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear, "I've been with you. And Karen."

Lucas scoffs, "She's your _best friend_, and you can't visit her? Not even once?"

He knows that's harsh, and a distant part of his brain is shouting at him to apologize and stop being so hard on his girlfriend when his blame is really self directed. But the anger is overriding any rational thought.

Brooke recoils slightly at that statement, before rallying. She lifts her chin, "She _is_ my best friend. And you're my boyfriend. I am trying to be here for _you_ right now, but that doesn't mean I don't care about her." She takes a shaky breath and continues to tearfully stare at him.

Lucas turns away from her, his eyes falling on a set of keys on his desk. The keys to the Mustang he should not be inheriting right now, or in this way.

But it's the only car he has.

"I'm going to go see her." He abruptly states, grabbing the keys and choosing to ignore what the brunette just said. It will only add to his guilt if he does. To face that he's the reason Peyton doesn't have her best friend by her side when she most needs her. He banishes that train of thought as soon as it creeps into his mind, not wanting to consider it.

"I'll come with you." Brooke offers. Hesitantly.

He picks up on that hesitance and sends her a scathing look.

"You mean, now that I'm going?" He practically snarls, jerking open the door leading outside. "No thanks. I _don't_ need you right now. And Peyton just needs to find someone who'll be a better so-called _best friend_."

He hears her sob right before he slams the door behind him. He's torn between hating the situation and hating the person he's becoming. But the pulsating guilt and the sheer, undiluted anger compel him down the driveway and to the car. He can always apologize later, once he's calmed down.

The drive to the hospital serves to compose him a little; focusing on an easy, routine activity soothes his ragged emotions.

He sits in his car for a full ten minutes, just watching people go in and out, before he musters up the courage to enter the hospital. It's not that difficult to find her room; anyone who has seen the news lately knows that he was one who carried Peyton out of that school. The nurses are helpful in directing him to where she is, but the looks of sympathy they keep casting his way are beginning to grate on his rapidly disintegrating nerves.

Finally he's standing in front of room 312. It's a private room, so there are no worries about disturbing any other patient or being disturbed by their family. He stands there, staring at the door, trying to tamp down the tidal wave of guilt washing over him for taking this long to come see her.

Taking a shuddering deep breath, he braces himself. Lucas pushes open the door, gaze immediately going to the blonde girl sleeping in the narrow hospital bed. He unconsciously holds his breath a moment, taking her in. She looks so utterly fragile and tiny to him, hooked up to monitors and intravenous lines.

He lets the door swing shut behind him as he steps further into the room, not taking his eyes off of her.

A movement in his peripheral vision catches his attention, drawing his gaze to the person sitting in a chair by the bed.

His heart stops.

She looks at him curiously, and he can't do anything but stare back, mind whirling.

"_Peyton_?"

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**A/N: Hopefully this is different enough to be interesting! Let me know what you think and if it's something I should continue. :-)**


	2. A Journey I Don't Have A Map For

**A/N: Sorry this took a while... I dawdled about posting it because I wasn't exactly sure of it. But someone said something at work today that made me think...I decided to throw this out there anyway! Enjoy!**

**I don't own OTH or it's characters, simply the journey I choose to take them on.**

**Ch. title comes from a lyric in "To The Moon And Back" by Savage Garden.

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**Ch. 2 - A Journey I Just Don't Have A Map For

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Her name falls from his lips in a strangled gasp.

Peyton's eyes widen as his face turns ashen; he stumbles back and leans against the door, still gawking at her.

"H-h…wha…I don't…I…" He clutches at the back of his head, mind unable to form any coherent thoughts. This isn't possible. It can't be happening.

She leans forward in surprise, "You can see me?"

It's almost not a question because it's asked so quietly and intended more for her than for him. But it booms around the room all the same to cause the boy's body to jerk again.

Peyton stands and takes a step toward him, but stops when he flinches. His gaze darts between the her standing in front of him and the her laying unconscious in bed.

"What the hell is going on?"

Peyton shrugs. She almost can't believe he's talking to her. Actually, she can't believe that's the part she finds unbelievable. But she's had six days to process it. He's only had six seconds.

"How…?" He trails off, obviously not certain of the intended question.

"I'm not really sure. One moment I remember being in the library with you, then the next time I open my eyes, I'm _sitting_ right next to _myself_!" Peyton exclaims, pacing in the space between the bed and the wall. She glances at the hospital bed with a grimace, "and I have no idea about anything!"

Lucas takes an instinctive step forward, reaching out his hand to try and calm her. It passes right through her arm; he yanks it back, startled, a gargle of sound escaping his throat. But she's not really surprised.

"Yeah. I know. It's like something out of a bad movie or a creepy, moral, ghost-of-Christmas-past type thing." She then smiles at him, "I must have tried to get my dad's attention a dozen times in the first five minutes before I seriously started freaking out."

He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again, clearly at a loss for words and not sure what to think. She's relieved to see some color seep back in his cheeks. For a moment there, he looked like he might pass out.

"I just…this is…"

"Weird?" Peyton supplies helpfully. "Yeah."

Lucas collapses into one of the chairs beside the bed. With his eyes on the unconscious Peyton, he mutters under his breath, "I must be dreaming. I'll wake up soon."

She simply laughs.

He turns to the chair next to him, where she's now sitting, and quirks an eyebrow in question.

She wrinkles her nose and motions towards the bed, "Me too. I'm hoping."

Lucas sends her a look so fierce, she's taken aback. And kind of frightened of him, which is new.

"That's an insensitive thing to joke about." He practically growls. "I can't believe—" He snaps his jaw shut with an audible click of teeth. She knows it's tightly clenched since she can actually see the muscles twitch. He's angry and Peyton can't help feeling guilty for making him feel that way, especially since—right now—he's all she has.

"Luke, I'm sorry. It's just…easier…to deal with that way, I guess."

He gives a curt nod and sighs. "Makes sense, in a way. Just…don't though. It just…but, none of the rest of this does. Makes sense, I mean."

"I know." And she does. If it did, she'd be worried about their mental health.

They sit in a few minutes of silence, but Peyton notices that it's not totally uncomfortable, like she would have expected. Actually, it's somewhat comforting to her, because it's familiar; the two of them have always been able to exist in silence together.

Peyton breaks the quiet. "My dad…he talked about Keith's funeral yesterday. I'm really sorry I couldn't be there for you and your mom; I feel like a terrible friend for not. I wanted to, but—"

"Thanks." Lucas interrupts, tone colder than she anticipated. "But you have no reason to apologize. You're in a _coma_. Of _course_ you wouldn't be there! _I'm_ the one who's sorry. I promised nothing would happen and…well, look!" He motions furiously to the unconscious Peyton.

"No. You _cannot_ blame yourself for this!" She turns on him, her fierce attitude practically forcing him to look at her. "You got me _out_ of that school. If it hadn't been for you, I probably wouldn't be alive _at all_ right now. Don't you _dare_ demean that or yourself like that again, _understand_?"

He stares at her, stony faced, biting out, "I _promised_. And I failed."

"You're an idiot!" Peyton throws her hands up in annoyance. "I think, if I had to choose, I'd rather be in a coma right now than dead. You didn't _fail_ anything."

Disgusted, Peyton rises from her chair to pace across the room. She can't understand his guilt towards her at all. He ran back into a school not knowing a thing about anything and somehow managed to find her in the library. He had stayed and he had taken her out when things got too bad for them to remain. And the tragedy from that day was the fact that she heard Keith did the same thing, but never walked back out of the school.

Realization dawns and Peyton stops directly in front of Lucas. She can't touch him, so she does the next best thing; kneels down in order to bring them eye to eye.

"'You know how proud of you Keith must be right now?'"

He looks up, startled. "'I don't know if that's true.'"

"'He is.'" She smiles gently at him. "And so am I. You're a good guy, Luke. Not many people would've done what you did."

"Keith was a good guy. He went back to help me…and Jimmy. I went back to stop Nathan from doing something stupid. That doesn't make me selfless or a hero or…anything. But _Keith_ was all of those things. And more."

Peyton shrugs lightly. "So? Just because you went in for one reason, doesn't mean you didn't stay for another. I was scared. Actually, I was _terrified_ and _alone_. But you stayed with me, because I asked."

"I _stayed_ because you're my friend and I care about you." Lucas corrects, with a firm nod of his head. "I wasn't just going to leave you there by yourself."

"Someone else might have."

It's a simple enough statement, but Peyton watches as it seems to hit him harder than anything else she's said thus far. She's not sure why. She just really hopes something gets through to him and banishes the guilt. In her eyes, he has not one thing to be guilty of. He's a hero, even if he doesn't see it that way.

"Someone else might have seen the bloody trail and ignored it." She pushes just a little further.

Lucas averts his eyes while he admits something that has bothered him for the past few days, "I almost did. I was going to go with Nathan to find Haley, but when I saw the blood by the _library_, I thought it might be you. So I went to make sure. I don't know if I would've gone in there at all if Brooke hadn't said she lost _you_ by the library after the gun went off. I probably would've gone with Nathan."

Peyton's not sure what to say to that. It's all the same really. "I don't see why that matters. Nathan went in specifically for Haley…it doesn't make him any more or less selfless than what you did. Whether it was Nathan, Haley, me, or anyone else, you still went to help. Just like Keith."

She watches as he seems to think about it before lightly shaking his head. Lucas slouches down into his chair and sighs, leaning his head back.

Peyton sighs as well, moving to reclaim her seat. As soon as she does, Lucas abruptly stands and moves to the hospital bed. She glances at him curiously, but he's seemingly ignoring her for now. She figures it has something to do with what she's just said; he's a little stubborn about facing difficult truths when he wants to wallow in what went wrong. She would know; she does that, too.

Lucas gazes down at an unconscious Peyton; Peyton wants to ask what he's thinking, but she's nervous about what the answer might be. Plus, as much as they've been ignoring it, she does remember what happened in the library before she passed out. It's a little embarrassing.

"Why do you think you're…disconnected, for lack of a better word?"

The change in subject is slightly jarring, so it takes a moment for Peyton to gather her thoughts. "I don't know." She shrugs. "It's not like I haven't tried to…well, reconnect."

He squints his eyes at her, a small quirk to his lips. "What?"

"Well, yeah." Peyton scrunches her nose. "You know I watch all kinds of off-the-wall movies. They do these kinds of things in those."

"_Movies_ were your inspiration?"

She nods sheepishly. She also notices the tiny smile on his face and the humor dancing in his eyes. The first time she's seen either of those since he walked into the room.

"Okay." He makes a face to try to disguise his urge to laugh. She notices anyway. "Okay. Like what?"

Peyton sighs. "I tried laying down on…me. It was just a whacked out experience. I didn't exactly go through me, but I didn't _not_ go through me."

He shoots her an incredulous look. "I don't…what?"

She rolls her eyes. "Dude, don't be dense, okay!" She stands again, walking over to the rolling lunch table on the other side of her hospital bed. "As you probably noticed, I can sit in chairs, I don't go through the floor. That's solid stuff for me. But for some reason…"

Trailing off, she simply demonstrates, walking right through the rolling table. "But some things…aren't."

She chances a look at his face, only to see a dropped jaw and blue eyes wider than she's ever seen them. She honestly hadn't known his eyes _could_ open that much.

He shakes his head dazedly and opens his mouth, but doesn't say anything. His eyes fly between the two Peyton's, before scrubbing a hand over his face and groaning softly.

"I think I was still hoping all of this was a dream or something." He murmurs, turning to face her. "Things like this just don't happen in real life."

"You're telling me." She can feel the frustration bubbling up and over. "I don't get this! I don't know what I'm supposed to do! One minute I'm a relatively normal person, the next, I'm something out of a sci-fi film. And not something cool either, like a punk rock zombie. No, I'm just me, the _lite_ version!"

He watches quietly as she storms past him towards the wall and kicks it.

"The wall is solid, like a wall should be." She turns abruptly, marching right up to his face.

"Um, Peyt—"

He's interrupted when she walks right through him. Startled, he whirls around to meet her defiant green eyes, his face draining of all color once again.

"But you are not."

"Yeah I am." He argues automatically. "_You're_ not."

"Not the point, Lucas." Peyton says dryly. But that rather inane comment calms her down. He's too confused to argue with at the moment.

He gives her a small boyish grin tinged with disbelief. "I guess not, right? Well, what else?"

"What do you mean?"

"What else can you do or not do that's different from normal."

"Oh. Well, I haven't been hungry or thirsty since I…woke up, I guess. I almost wanted to cry when I saw my dad do it, but I just couldn't. I don't think I sleep, but there are times that are blanks."

"Blanks? Like you're unconscious?" He motions her to the chair as he leans against the hospital bed absently. Probably propping himself up so he doesn't pass out from the weirdness of this conversation.

"Kinda. I'll be sitting here, you know, then just get really bored and…blank out. When I'm aware again, time has passed." A smirk graces her lips. "I'm a little boring to watch unconscious."

He rolls his eyes and glances away for a moment. Her smirk widens into a grin. Over the past summer, sometimes they'd fall asleep together. A couple of times, she had woken up to his eyes watching her. He'd told her that she mumbles stuff and moves around a lot; it kept him entertained until she woke up. Peyton had just shoved him and told him he was a creepy weirdo, but had laughed too.

She kinda likes that teasing him about things from their summer still puts the slight blush on his face. He's adorable when he's flustered.

She shakes that thought out of her head. He's also very much taken by her best friend, and she's very much still not over Jake. Mostly. Okay, she is. Whatever.

Lucas studies her contemplatively. "So, you either do sleep, but just don't know it, or those blanks could be when you're…connected to yourself. So it's a blank 'cause you're in a coma."

She looks up in surprise. "Maybe. I just don't know." She laughs softly. "You know, I saw a show once, where a person was on life support, brain dead. Basically like a ghost, you know? Anyway, there was a medium there who could communicate and tell the person's family anything the ghost wanted to share. The ghost told the medium that he could feel his friends and family hold his hand and he could feel all the machines working in his body."

She falls silent for a moment, collecting her thoughts.

"You thought…" Lucas asks, turning his head to the unconscious girl lying behind him before giving her a look of understanding.

"Yeah." She looks up at him with a half smile. "I did. But I can't feel anything when people touch me. Either me's. I can't physically feel anything at all. And I really, _really_ wanted to, you know? Like, if my dad could just hold my hand, I'd be okay. But I can't feel it when he does."

"Peyton. I'm sorry." His voice is whisper soft and laced with compassion.

"Me, too." She exhales loudly. "_Any_way, my biggest problem is trying to find a way back to being one person."

"I can do some thinking," He offers. "Maybe a little research. Who knows, there may even be a few movie tricks you can still try."

His gentle teasing brings a smile to her face, an expression he mimics.

"Thanks, Lucas."

"For what?"

"Being my friend."

They simply stare at each other for a moment, before she voices a rather frightening thought. "What if I can't come back?"

He looks startled. His expression hardens, a look of determination coming into his eyes. "That's not an option. You will and I'll help. I promise."

She nods jerkily. She really hopes that he's right, but she can't shake the fear he's wrong. That this is how she'll spend her last days on earth; disconnected from everyone, including herself.

She's so lost in her thoughts that she doesn't notice he's moved until a very faint tingle glides near her forehead.

Her hand instinctively covers the sensation. The first _actual_ sensation she's felt since she passed out in the library.

Lucas tracks her movement in amazement. "You felt that?"

"What?" Her breaths becoming shallow as her thoughts scatter. "Did you…I just…I _felt_ something on my forehead."

"I moved your hair back a little." He puffs out a soundless laugh and orders "close your eyes for a second."

She obeys. Her eyes fly open when she feels the sensation of someone holding her hand. Her hand, not the unconscious Peyton's hand. A quick glance show both of her hands still sitting on her lap, not even touching each other. She's almost scared to look over at the hospital bed.

But she does, to see Lucas grinning…and holding her hand.

She laughs. A weird combination of sound that resembles laughing through tears, even though she can't cry. But she can _feel_ Lucas _holding her hand_.

"Well, that's…that's really something, isn't it?" He manages to say, still grinning.

"Yeah. It is. God, thank you Lucas!" She squeals on another laugh. "I really do feel a little better."

"I'm glad."

A silence descends as he just holds her hand via her unconscious self, Peyton savoring the feeling of it, both physically and emotionally.

The moment is interrupted by a soft knock on the door right before it opens. Lucas has just enough time to move from against the bed into a chair, still holding onto her hand. Both teens turn their heads to the person entering the room.

"Lucas."

"Mr. Sawyer." He gives him a tight smile. Peyton briefly wonders where his real smile suddenly disappeared to.

"Any change? Did the doctors say anything?"

"No. No one's been in here since I got here."

"Okay." Larry shifts awkwardly. "Um, did you still want time to visit privately?"

Peyton catches Lucas' eyes. "See? He can't see or hear me here. It's frustrating."

An infinitesimal nod is his answer to her, while giving a verbal response to her father. "No, it's okay. I was just holding her hand, hoping she could feel it."

She smiles because she can feel it. It's comforting.

Larry nods. "I do that too."

Her smile slips a little, at the sadness in his voice. And the fact that she's been unable to feel him doing that.

Lucas nods his head at the older man. Peyton can tell he's not sure what to say in this situation. He's the only person so far who knows what's going on.

Her eyes widen and she gives a little shriek, darting off the chair right before her dad lowers into it. She knows he wouldn't feel her, or her him, but the thought of being sat on is still weird. She also catches the tiny quirk to Lucas' lips at her actions. If she could blush, she probably would.

"Lucas," Larry starts, facing the boy straight on. "I wanted to apologize for this morning—"

"No," Lucas interrupts. "I should be the one apologizing. I just didn't deal well with the thought of her being alone. Mostly because I felt guilty for not coming to see her myself."

Peyton turns her attention onto his face, but he ignores her and stays focused on Larry.

Larry smiles and nods his head. "I get that. But you don't have to feel guilty; you've been going through a lot. Peyton would understand."

"I do understand. You're being dumb. You can't be everywhere all the time, and taking the time to deal with your own things shouldn't make you feel guilty. You're a good guy, but you can also be an idiot." She says it with exasperated fondness, because that combination can make a girl feel like she's banging her head against a brick wall. But his heart is usually in the right place.

He continues to ignore her. "Thanks, Mr. Sawyer."

"Call me Larry."

"Okay." He agrees. "Um, I guess I'll give you some time alone with Peyton. I should go check on my mom."

"Thanks for visiting. You're a good friend to her."

Peyton bites her lip, suddenly feeling unsure. "Will you be back?"

"I hope so." Lucas addresses Larry's comment. "I just want to be better than I've been lately. Is it okay if I stop by more often?"

Larry looks a little shocked. "Of course you can! You don't have to ask. And anytime you feel like some alone time with her…I don't mind. She needs people. Probably tired of listening to her old man ramble anyway." He smiles wearily with that last comment.

Peyton waggles her eyebrows jokingly at Lucas, trying to ignore the painful dart she feels at her dad's sadness, "You hear that? _Alone_ time."

He covers his laugh with a cough, causing Larry to offer him some water.

"It's okay, I'm fine. Just a tickle or something." Lucas assures her dad, keeping his eyes away from the other blonde teen. She wonders if that's his way to control his need to laugh. In the beginning, she'd given in to that urge, until it became hysterical, turning into dry heaves in a parody of sobbing. That was day one; any laughter since then has been almost non-existent.

The boy gives one last squeeze to the hand he's holding, and moves towards the doorway, turning for a final look at the occupants.

"Bye Mr. Saw—Larry." He corrects with a hesitant smile.

The older man returns the smile. "Bye Lucas. You take care of yourself, you hear?"

He nods, moving his glance to Peyton, who's standing next to her unconscious self. "Bye, Peyton. I'll see ya."

She acknowledges the many layers of that comment with a tilt of her head.

"I'll see ya."

* * *

**A/N: Sooo, what did you think? I'm curious to know if anyone saw that coming, or finds it way too weird... and yeah, Luke's reaction. I kind of based it on that episode after his heart attack where he talks to Keith...he was weirded out, asked questions, but still took it on faith. If you have questions, don't hesitate to ask! I'll answer what I can without giving away the rest of the story...**


	3. To Justify All The Hurt Inside

**A/N: Here it is folks, the third installment! **

**I don't own OTH or it's characters, only the journey I choose to take them on. As well as any and all mistakes, since this whole thing is unbeta'd. (forgot to mention that earlier). Chapter title comes from a lyric in "To The Moon and Back" by Savage Garden.  
**

**Shout out to MichelleBelle16, who lets me ramble ideas at her to see what makes sense, lol. Thanks for that! BTW, this first section is for you, haha. Nowhere near as bad as I made it sound, though...promise!

* * *

Ch. 3: To Justify All The Hurt Inside  
**

Hand resting on the door knob, Lucas leans his forehead against the front door and closes his eyes. He's not ready to go in yet. His morning has run him through a gamut of emotions, from waking with despair, battling guilt, lashing out in anger, smiling in shared humor, and circling back to guilt again.

Visiting the hospital this morning gave him something else to focus on besides his own issues. Honestly, he's still not certain of anything that happened in that room. There's a part of his brain that's screaming in panic and disbelief, while another part believes without hesitation and is analyzing what to do next. Things like this don't happen in real life. Except, apparently, they do.

But now, he has to walk into his house and see his mother's glazed over expression. He has to face the questions and grief that spill from those eyes. But he always feels like a lost little boy when faced with the depth of her anguish, maybe since, as his mom, she was always the strong one for their family. He doesn't know how to be.

And he has to fix what he did to Brooke. Because she didn't deserve to be treated that way. He knows she's scared _for_ Peyton; he just doesn't understand why that fear is stopping her from going to see her best friend. He opts to disregard the fact that his fear kept him away from the hospital too; that's different, since he's been dealing with the loss of Keith.

Lucas straightens his posture and pushes the door open with a soft exhalation. Here goes nothing.

Brooke glances up from the mug in her hand, one fist poised to knock on his mom's bedroom door.

"Luke. Um, I just…she hasn't…I mean…" She trails off miserably, averting her gaze to the door in front of her.

Guilt hits him like a ton of bricks. Before he can say anything, she's knocking on the door and calling out to his mom. "Karen? I made you some tea."

He quietly shuts the front door behind him and stands there awkwardly for a moment. Brooke ignores him while she waits for a response from his mom. Lucas says nothing, but shuffles over to stand by her side. In a low voice, he asks, "How's she doing?"

"She ate a little." Brooke murmurs without looking at him. "She's been in her room since Larry left and hasn't even opened the door."

As if to disprove the brunette's statement, the door opens, Karen reaching out to accept the mug of tea.

"Thank you, Brooke." Her voice is raspy and low, hand trembling a little.

Lucas swallows the lump in his throat as he studies his usually unflappable parent. Her eyes are puffy and red, indicators that she'd been crying, and her expression seems even emptier than when he saw her this morning. He just feels so helpless.

Karen's gaze lands on her son, and he sees a spark of relief that quickly fades.

"Lucas. Um, how's Peyton doing?"

He freezes for a second, not sure how to answer that question. They'd have him committed if he blurted out something like, 'yeah, I saw her spirit and had a nice chat and, by the way, she's still in a coma'.

"I didn't see any doctors or nurses, so I don't know, really. I just held her hand and talked to her."

She nods. "Yeah." Backing into the room, she moves to shut the door. "I'm gonna lay down a while."

"Mom—"

He's cut off when the door closes softly. He thinks it would've felt better if she'd slammed it or something. Anger could be a little easier to handle than this apathy. He can react to anger...maybe. But this facade of his mother leaves him flabbergasted and off balance, like any move is going to be the wrong one.

His girlfriend fidgets uncomfortably beside him, causing him to tear his thoughts away from his mom and onto her. He has to make amends.

"Brooke, I'm sorry."

Her gaze flies to him, expression hopeful.

He sighs, lightly taking her hand and leading her into the living room to the couch. He cradles her hand between both of his and tilts his head back for a moment before turning to face her.

"I'm sorry. I was just…I took out my anger at you because it was easier than admitting that I was mostly just mad at myself. About a lot of things. I didn't mean to be such an ass."

"Its okay, Luke." She smiles tremulously and squeezes his hand slightly. "I understand that. Just…don't forget that I'm here, okay? When you need to talk about…a lot of things."

"Thanks." He loves her for that, but already knows he won't be talking to her about things that are happening to him right now. If he mentions the Peyton one, she'll think he's insane; he's not ready to talk about Keith yet, or what happened in that school. Well, he kind of already has talked about that, and he's not ready to say more at this time. There's not a whole lot left right now, actually. Maybe he'll be ready eventually. And he's grateful to know he has a least one person who'll listen.

"Lucas?"

"Hmm?"

He watches her expression change a little, into something he can't decipher.

"How is Peyton? Really?"

"The same, I guess. Unconscious and alone." The anger starts seeping in again with that thought; he battles it back, not wanting to explode at Brooke for a second time.

She flinches at his blunt phrase, expression stricken.

"Brooke." He carefully modulates his tone, needing to avoid a repeat of this morning. "Why?"

She gives him a confused look, making him sigh in impatience.

"This morning, you said you haven't gone to see Peyton because you were here with me and mom."

"Yeah. I wanted to be here when you needed me."

He lightly shakes his head. "No. Don't use me or my mom as an excuse, Brooke. Peyton's your friend. Why haven't you been to see her?"

Her chin starts quivering, her eyes rapidly blink against the threat of tears, and she attempts to tug her hand from his. He tightens his grip, moving his other hand to cup her jaw, keeping her face where he can see it.

A stifled sob escapes her mouth, the words almost tripping over themselves to get out. "It's my fault! I was _right there_ with her when that gun went off. I didn't…I should've…God, Luke, I just _left_, I didn't even check and make sure she was behind me. I thought she was, but I _didn't make sure_!"

"Brooke." It's more air than sound in the face of her sobs. He's speechless. He remembers her running to him, shouting that she lost Peyton by the library. He remembers the utter chaos as people practically trampled their way out of that school.

"Brooke." This time his tone is stronger. He tenderly wipes tears off her cheeks, "Look at me."

She shudders, using her free hand to swipe across her eyes, as she controls her breathing. But she looks at him.

"It. Is. Not. Your. Fault." Lucas enunciates, wanting to get the point across. "It's not. That day…that day was insanely crazy, Brooke. People were everywhere, running in every direction. You were scared, and that's understandable. You can't blame yourself for being scared and getting out of there."

"But I should have _made sure_. Peyton would have. She wouldn't have left me behind, she would have—"

"Brooke! You don't know that. It didn't happen that way. And Peyton…_she_ would not want you to think like that, I know it."

More tears trickle out, Lucas rubbing them away almost without thought. He watches Brooke take in his words, then seemingly wave them away.

"I…I just feel guilty. For leaving her behind. And alone." It's barely a whisper, but he hears her.

Lucas sighs, standing and pulling Brooke up with him. "I think Peyton would understand. She wouldn't blame you for that. But she might blame you if you _keep_ leaving her alone."

She chokes out a gasp, hand flying to her mouth, eyes full of sorrow and shattering composure. He very gently nudges her to the door. "Go see her, Brooke. She needs her best friend. She needs you. And you need her."

She gives him a shaky nod, turning and pulling open the front door. Before stepping through, she swings around and wraps her arms around his neck, hugging him fervently, whispering against his skin, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Pretty Girl." He hugs her back, detangling her arms and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You go see your best friend, and I'm going to check in on mine."

She smiles lightly. "Okay."

**0.o o_o o.0**

The first thing Haley does when she sees him is throw her arms around him. And starts tearing up, voice shaking as she rambles on about nothing, motioning him to sit down with her and Nathan.

Nathan puts his hand on Lucas' shoulder when he takes the seat next to him, mumbling, "I'm sorry, man."

Lucas is a little confused as to what he's sorry about. They already spoke at the funeral for their uncle, both expressing their grief. They don't need to do it again. Once is about all he can handle for that.

Nathan sees that look and clarifies, "For not going to the wake. We…well, me and Haley needed to be alone together."

Lucas nods in response, not really caring about that right now. He well understands the desire to hide from the rest of the world. And he knows that Nathan and Haley had their own traumatic experience while trapped in the school that day. They need to grieve for that, in their own way, on their own time, and he won't begrudge them how they choose to deal with it.

"You don't have to apologize. I get it."

Haley seats herself on his other side, clasping his hand in hers.

"What's on your mind, Lucas?" Her voice is soft, compassionate, and so very…Haley.

His best friend is insanely smart. She's also odd and philosophical. Maybe, in a way, she might have some insight into Peyton's current predicament. It's worth a try, anyway.

"I was only…Hales, do you believe in Heaven?"

She looks startled at the train of thought.

"I mean, do you think it's possible for…spirits to, I don't know…get stuck? Like, somewhere between here and Heaven, if it exists?"

She studies him confusedly, pursing her lips in thought. "I don't know, Luke." She shrugs helplessly. "I think that the people we love and lose are always with us. I think they watch over us. That doesn't necessarily mean there is or isn't a Heaven, just that I don't really know."

"Okay, but what about, when you hear people talking—people who _almost_ die—and they talk about seeing things or being ghosts or something?"

"Luke—"

"You mean, a near death experience?" Nathan interrupts, drawing Lucas' attention.

"Yeah." He nods. "Yeah, like that. People talk about lights, and angels… I was just wondering what all of that meant, you know?"

Haley sighs, rubbing his hand in an absent, albeit comforting, gesture. "I think, some things have to be taken on Faith. Some people who come close to death may very well have experiences where they encounter those they loved. Maybe it's a way to tell them to hold on, or to let them know its okay to let go. Either way, a lot of it boils down to Faith, and a person's belief in things beyond our world."

Nathan studies his brother, making him squirm a little. Lucas doesn't think Haley's words are much help or very informative, but any more questions on that topic might make her suspicious enough to nag at him until he explains. Or, with the way he's looking at him, Nathan may just beat her to the punch. Before Lucas gets too uncomfortable under his brother's gaze, Haley steals his attention again, playing with a little tin box that had been on the coffee table. A very recognizable box.

"Hales?" He motions to her hands and gives her a look of bewilderment.

She purses her lips. "Nathan and I had written a few predictions when I first came home. When we were…shaky. I wanted to show him what I wrote about us."

"And what I wrote about us." Nathan breaks in.

Haley continues, "I, um, saw some of yours, too."

"It doesn't really matter does it?" Lucas bitterly states. "Keith's dead. None of them are gonna come true now."

Nathan sends him a sympathetic glance, but Lucas can tell his brother doesn't really understand, nor does he know what to say about any of it. Not that Lucas cares. He was _so_ close to having the family he always wanted, when it was cruelly snatched away by a boy Lucas thought he'd known.

"I know that, I do." Haley murmurs, sniffling a little. "But Lucas, Keith loved you. He was your father in _every_ way that matters. He would not want you to feel guilty, or be…bitter about any of this."

Lucas scoffs, shaking his head a little in disbelief.

"He wouldn't!" Haley turns, facing him earnestly. "I know you. I can guess that you're blaming yourself for why he went in, or not being able to save him—"

Nathan interrupts, "I couldn't save him, either."

"But it's not your fault. He went in there—to help—because that's the kind of person he was. That's the kind of person he raised _you_ to be."

"Yeah man. If you hadn't gone in, we would have had to attend Peyton's funeral."

Lucas knows they're trying to help, and it was sort of working until the last sentence. If they care so much, why has Peyton basically been an afterthought? Neither of them has even seen her since before the shooting. He can't think of when either of them last asked about her; at least he and Brooke had done that much. Sporadically. Rarely. Self loathing sucks him in, burying him under a ton of conflicting and nearly incoherent thoughts.

Haley continues, "'And Luke, you think none of your predictions have come true? Just look at this year, the first one on your list—'"

He cuts her off before she can finish, not really caring about what he wrote a few months ago. Anger and resentment are building in his chest, squeezing out all of the air in his lungs. He needs to get out before he suffocates in it. He needs some time alone.

"I have to go." Standing abruptly, he ignores a hurt Haley and a startled Nathan, striding to the door as fast as he can. The only thing he's focusing on is the thought of getting outside. Being able to breathe. He _needs_ to breathe.

"Luke!" Haley cries helplessly, floundering a little, trying to catch him.

But he's out the door, gulping in huge amounts of air as soon as it hits his face. He pulls the car keys from his pocket, before changing his mind. He shouldn't be driving in this condition. Without further thought, he banks left, intent on no real destination at this point, but needing to move. To get away.

He hears footsteps jogging behind him as soon as his breathing slows enough to pay attention to his surroundings; he turns to see a concerned Nathan.

"You okay, man?"

"I don't really know right now." It's an honest answer. He's just had a minor anxiety attack or something, and he doesn't know why.

"Okay. Um…okay."

Lucas has to give him a small grin at those very profound words. Nathan makes a face at him.

"Anyway, I guess I'll leave you to your thoughts. But we're here for you if you need us."

"Thanks, man."

"Um," Nathan hesitates a moment. "By any chance, have you heard anything about how Peyton's doing? I know she's still in the hospital, but I was wondering if there's been a change, you know?"

The anger washes in again. No one seemed to care before. At least, not enough to go see for themselves within the last six days. Yes, he did the same thing, but he also fixed that. He's tired of people leaving her behind, despite the circumstances surrounding the last few days. So he doesn't bother to hide the iciness in his reply.

"Go see for yourself, Nate. Except for Larry, she doesn't have a friend in the world."

He doesn't look back as he walks away; he kind of wants those words to hurt Nathan. He knows being alone hurts Peyton, almost more than anything else in the world. And they all left her that way.

**0.o o_o o.0**

It's almost too depressing to watch. Peyton's been sitting there, listening to her dad tell her unconscious self some stories. She loves him for that, but at the same time, it scares her.

He did the same thing when Anna was unconscious in the hospital. Right before she died.

She hates seeing him worried, she hates that he's alone in that worry, and she hates that she's the cause of his worry. It would be so much easier if _she_ didn't worry about _him_.

She's relieved when he says something about grabbing lunch in the cafeteria, before leaning down to lightly kiss her other self's cheek. She holds her breath, hoping to feel that sensation on her own face. Nothing.

As soon as Larry leaves, Peyton slumps down into her chair, pulling her legs up underneath her. She figures she had some unrealistic hope from Lucas' visit this morning. Six days with no one—doctors, nurses, her dad—being aware of her presence, then bam, she's noticed. She was hoping maybe someone else might see her now too, since something's apparently changed. She doesn't know what, though.

She _is_ surprised to see the person who walks through the door next. Actually, that's an understatement. She's so shocked by her visitor, she nearly falls _through_ her chair, which freaks her out a little.

As is standard, she's not noticed when the person walks right by her, straight for the 'sleeping' girl in the bed.

"Hi, P. Sawyer. It's me."

Peyton's eyebrows shoot up at the tears that already start trickling down her best friend's face. She doesn't think she looks _that_ bad.

Brooke pulls a chair closer to the bed, sitting down and twining Peyton's hand within both of hers. She seems to be trying to keep her composure. Peyton's curious about what she has to say; she's happy her best friend is here. She's also hurt, angry, and frustrated that she _hasn't_ been there. And she's not sure she wants to let go of those negative feelings any time soon. But it's Brooke. It's always been hard for Peyton to stay mad at her.

Brooke doesn't really say anything; she just bows her head over their joined hands and sobs. Harshly.

On instinct, Peyton jumps from her chair. "Brooke! Hey, hey, hey! Don't cry."

Half-hoping for a reaction, Peyton attempts to touch her friend, wanting to comfort her. To no avail. She feels so damn helpless; she's _never_ just stood back while Brooke cried, not without trying something to fix the problem. If she could cry right now…well, she feels like crying, but it probably wouldn't help the situation any.

She stands there, wanting to cry but unable to, wanting to soothe Brooke but unable to even simply touch her. In a way, it's harder to be helpless when it's Brooke than when it's her dad. Probably because she's always championed her very sociable, rather insecure, and entirely childish more-of-a-sister best friend. Her dad's usually gone; Brooke's normally the only family she has around.

A little more-so now, since the recent loss of her second mom, Ellie. It was back to being Brooke and Peyton against the world, same as before.

"Peyton. Peyton, please…just wake up." She sniffles, pulling up their united hands, pressing her forehead against them. "Squeeze my hand if you can hear me, okay? Please?"

She tries, she really does. By clenching her own fists tightly, hoping to at least cause a twitch to the fingers of her unconscious body. By sliding her hand right through her 'real' hand, attempting to move it. By trying to fold Brooke's hands within hers. Nothing works.

"Ugh," Brooke sits up a little straighter, swiping one hand beneath her eyes. "I promised myself I wouldn't break down. Um, so…okay. Since you can't tell me any gossip on your end right now, I'll give you the low down on mine."

Peyton scoffs out a laugh. Though she can't be surprised. Typical Brooke, to deal with emotions by shutting down, shopping, drinking, or gossiping.

Brooke scrunches up her face before admitting sheepishly, "I guess I don't really have any gossip, either. I've just been with Lucas and Karen, you know?"

"Yeah. I get that." Peyton just needs to respond, to feel a connection to her best friend; like they're having a conversation. She's missed that.

"I've been really worried about Karen. She's so…different. She just holes herself up in her room and doesn't really let anyone see her break." A tiny smirk, "Kind of like another person I know, whenever she's dealing with something big."

Peyton chuckles lightly at the not-so-subtle dig at her coping habits. She really does understand where Karen's coming from. Sometimes it's just easier to hide away from the world and pretend for a while. Just until you can gather your strength and come into the light again. Or until someone drags you out.

"Um, well. I guess I'm just working up the courage to say something to you." With every word Brooke's voice softens, until it's barely a whisper.

Peyton's curious. "For what?"

Brooke takes a shaky breath and wipes once again at the steady trails of tears. "I'm _so_ sorry. For leaving you behind. I'm scared…that you won't wake up. Because, if I had stayed, if I had turned around to make sure you were there…m-maybe…maybe I could've helped you get out of that school. You would have gotten help s-sooner. You wouldn't be h-here right now." Her voice trails off in shuddering sobs, as she tries to get her emotions under control.

"Oh, Brooke." It's a broken whisper. Peyton had never stopped to look at it that way. It kills her that her best friend did. She'd just been glad that Brooke had gotten out, and was safe. "Honey, no. I'm _glad_ you got out. Don't blame yourself for this."

"And…I-I just…I felt guilty. Like I didn't deserve to get to see you."

"B.—"

"Then, Lucas basically told me that was crap." A watery laugh. "Just a lot nicer. He implied that staying away may be helping _me_, but that you deserved better. And you do."

Peyton says nothing. She can't help feeling a little stung at her friend's admission. At the fact that Brooke was basically _told_ to come; she didn't choose to on her own. And maybe that's unfair, to hold it against her. But after being basically ignored since she fell into a coma, it makes her wonder just what kind of impact it would have if she _didn't _regain consciousness.

"Anyway…I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. But you have to wake up soon, okay? You have to be okay, P. Sawyer, because I love you. I need you to be okay. We all do." Brooke looks up hopefully at an unresponsive, still comatose Peyton.

But bitterness creeps in as she stares incredulously at the brunette. "Really? It takes a _week_ before anyone besides my dad cares to show up. Are you sure about that? That I'm so _damn_ important to anyone else?"

It's moments like these that Peyton really wishes she could be _awake_ for these conversations, to express her feelings when things like that are said. Or that she could cry from the frustration, the anger, and the sheer, unadulterated _hurt_ she feels.

Brooke sighs in dejection at the lack of response and lightly runs her thumb over the back of Peyton's hand. "Like I said, I've mostly been with Karen and Lucas. And I'm really, really worried about how he's doing, you know? I'm trying to be there for him, but it's hard. He's not someone who likes to talk about things, I guess." She frowns a little. "He's just been…pushing me away. No matter how hard I try to get him to let me in, he won't. But I keep trying anyway."

"God, really?" Peyton shakes her head, crossing to the other side of the room. She _needs_ to physically distance herself from this conversation before she screams. Not that anyone would hear. "You don't come for _six days_, and when you do, you tell me about how _hard_ you've been trying for Lucas? Am _I_ really that disposable to you? What about hoes over bros…or is that just when it's convenient?" She laughs mockingly to herself, before turning to face her friend again.

Brooke falls silent for a few moments, and Peyton's relieved to have the time to rein her own emotions in a little. It does no good to get worked up over things she can't do anything about right now. And deep down she knows Brooke doesn't mean it like that. The brunette likes to hide a little behind her bubbly mask, avoiding or ignoring things that bring her pain. She's always done that, ever since the day she realized no matter what she did, her parents weren't going to pay attention enough to care.

She does feel guilty when Brooke starts crying in earnest again, but at the same time, she's slightly mollified. Because what Brooke said, makes her feel like crap. And she can't cry, so someone should. Even though dealing with crying people makes her nervous.

Almost as if she knows what Peyton's thinking—maybe they really are as close as they've always claimed—Brooke scrubs at her face with both hands, letting go of Peyton for the first time since she came in. The blonde's floored to actually note an _absence _of feeling. Brooke didn't seem to notice Peyton's attempts at touch, but Peyton noticed hers...kind of. It wasn't on the same level as feeling when Lucas held her hand, but it was better than the nothing that came with everyone else.

Once Brooke's tears are calmed some, she confesses, "Trying to help Lucas is easier than seeing you like this, P. Sawyer. You're my best friend; you've always been so strong. It's too hard seeing you so…_helpless_. Add in the guilt, and…there you go."

Sighing, Peyton drops down into the chair beside Brooke, staring at her unconscious self and nodding. "Yeah." This roller coaster of emotion is exhausting. But, strangely enough, she feels better for having expressed it to herself. And she's never been able to hold a grudge against Brooke; so she lets it go.

Brooke stands, situating herself so that she's hovering over the blonde laying in the hospital bed. She leans over and lightly presses a kiss to her cheek, pulling back to smooth some hair away from Peyton's face. She doesn't feel the kiss, but she swears she felt fingers on her temple. Either that, or she wants to feel that sensation so much, she's imagining it. Peyton can't tell and thinking about it will only make her hurt sharpen, so she pushes it aside for the time being and focuses on her best friend.

"I'm sorry for leaving you behind. I'm not going to anymore, okay?" Brooke lets a small smile grace her face.

"Okay." Peyton smiles as well.

"I promise I'll try to do better when you wake up. Just wake up, Peyton."

"I'm trying." Peyton promises. "And I'll do better, too."

With one last watery sigh, Brooke walks to the door and pulls it open, hesitating in the entryway. She glances back at the bed. "I love you, P. Sawyer."

"I love you, too, B. Davis."

* * *

**A/N: What did you think? Anyone want to take a guess about anything, I'd love to hear it! Hope you enjoyed...thanks for reading!**


	4. Cause I Got Time She Got Freedom

**A/N: Soo, my momma says to take good advice when it's given to you. I'm going to go ahead and character-label this story: it's Lucas/Peyton since it revolves around their situations and is told filtered through their POV's. Thanks to Bendecida82 for the gentle push to do so! :)**

**As always, I don't own OTH or it's characters, only the journey I choose to take them on. As well as any and all mistakes, since it's unbeta'd.**

**Chapter title comes from a lyric in the song "Breakeven" by The Script.**

**Enjoy!

* * *

Ch. 4: 'Cause I Got Time While She Got Freedom  
**

Peyton sighs, curled up in one of the chairs by her other self. She's still a little dazed by her afternoon and if she's honest, a little disappointed, too. After Brooke had left, Nathan had come to speak with her, followed by Haley. Of course, she had spent their visits trying—and failing—to get their attention. Surprisingly, she came closest to being noticed by Nathan.

Maybe because she had dated him for a while? Or was it a Scott thing? _Any_way...

He had been talking to her, recounting a story from their early days as a couple that had sent her into a laughing fit. One that abruptly calmed when Nathan had looked weirdly at the spot she was sitting, before shaking whatever feeling he had away.

She had doubled her efforts with him, only resulting in one or two more moments that he brushed away as imagination. Her lack of success with him left her so frustrated she barely listened to whatever Haley had said during her visit. The only thing she honestly remembered about Haley was that she never noticed her, either.

Sitting there, staring at herself, she decides to simply blame everything on Lucas. It makes her feel a little better. It's confusing and odd that he'd be the one person who knows what's going on, since in the grand scheme of things, they've only known each other about a year. Yet he has absolutely no trouble interacting with her while those who have spent years being in her life, can't. Plus, she just _knows_ Lucas is behind the lets-visit-Peyton-parade of the day. This gives her a perfectly valid reason to blame him for her feelings of disappointment right now.

Standing, she moves over to the Peyton lying on the bed. It worries her that she's starting to think of them as separate people now, even as she studies _her_ _own _unconscious body.

"Damn it!" Beyond frustrated, she jerks her hand through her hair and yells, "Just wake the hell up already, Peyton Elizabeth!"

Of course, nothing happens. Deflating, she tilts her head back and groans. Letting her head fall forward again, she studies her other self's serene expression. Maybe _that_ Peyton likes the serenity of a coma; her life certainly hasn't been the easiest lately.

As soon as that thought enters her mind, Peyton literally shakes it right out of her head again. It doesn't make sense. There aren't two different Peyton's with two separate opinions. There's just her…and she wants to wake up. She _does_. It terrifies her that it sounds like she's trying to convince herself of that.

She closes her eyes and fists her hands together, pressing them against her forehead as she sinks down into the chair again. Feeling like a little girl at the moment, she gives a half laugh, half sigh, "Mom, if you're listening, I could use some advice right about now."

Peyton isn't expecting anything to happen, so she's shocked when she falls flat on her ass and hits hard ground. Opening her eyes, she freezes. "_Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod_!" It's a mantra that escapes as a whimper, her eyes glued to the headstone in front of her. Anna Rebecca Sawyer. Her mom.

Her mind's blank as she stares straight ahead. She only snaps into focus when a stray thought filters in: _she's away from her hospital room._ Peyton had no idea that could even happen, much less what it means, what could happen, or how it could have an effect on her coma. It's a terrifying prospect.

Freaking out, she scrambles to her feet and glances around wildly. "What do I _do_?"

It doesn't take much thought for her to close her eyes again and focus on her 'other' self. That usually works in the movies.

"…to say goodnight, sweetheart. I'll be back in the morning."

Relief floods over her at the sound of her dad's voice and the sight of him leaning down to brush a kiss on 'her' forehead. Ha. Movies are good for something. So there, Lucas.

She sinks back into the chair and watches her dad leave. She's still a little shaky from what just happened, not sure what to make of it. Not sure if she wants to do that again; what if leaving causes permanent problems, like actual death? So far, it seems like there weren't any complications while she was away, but she figures she was only gone for a minute or so. Not long enough for damage to ensue, thank goodness.

Peyton takes the moments of silence that follow her dad's exit to just clear her mind. Everything from today is bombarding her, muddying her emotions and spinning her mind in circles. Things aren't clear at all. Nothing is making sense. Before this morning, even with her…disconnection, she'd been relatively clear-headed. Peyton's in a coma. Peyton wants to wake up. No one knows that all of her is not lying in the hospital bed. Simple as that.

Then, not so simple, as Lucas came in and saw the disconnection. As Brooke cried over her, as her dad begged, as Nathan tried to laugh and ignore feeling her in the room, as Haley fumbled through being positive. As she herself realized it's really not as simple as she had thought. As she faced the fact that maybe a tiny part of her was relieved to be out of commission and away from life's recent habit of kicking her down.

A resounding click breaks her ruminations and has her head turning to the door in time to see Lucas slipping in.

"Hey." He sends her a quick smile, turning to lock the door. "The nurses don't have to check on you anytime soon, right?"

"Right." She nods, slightly confused. "But, there's no visiting hours, so…"

He smiles sheepishly, taking the chair next to her. "I know. Not that hard to sneak in actually, which is probably not a good sign. I wanted to talk to you, without the risk of anyone coming in."

"Don't want people to see you talking to air?" She jokes.

"Yeah," he grins at her, "I don't really want a padded room right now, thanks."

She grins back before biting her lip and fidgeting with her fingers. She probably shouldn't mention her earlier scare; she should think about it a little more before talking about it. She sneaks a quick peek at him. His eyebrows furrow and he tilts his head at her, silently asking.

Peyton sighs. Why can't she _not_ tell this guy things? Especially the crazy stuff. "Sooo, I had an interesting evening."

Worry fills his eyes, "What happened?"

"I kind of...left." She shrugs when his eyes widen. "I was talking to myself, then closed my eyes and wanted my mom." A muted scoff leaves her mouth. "And then I was there."

"At the cemetery?" He clarifies, stunned expression covering his face.

"Yeah. I _freaked_ and panicked, then tried a movie trick. Which worked, by the way." A ghost of smugness layers her tone with the last sentence.

He nods absently, apparently not as amused this go around. "Did anything happen? I mean, with your coma?"

"Unh uh. Everything seemed fine when I popped back in. But I was only gone a minute."

She watches him stand and start pacing in a slow circle. Peyton can practically see the wheels turning in his mind. If she's following his train of thought correctly, she figures she'll be heading out for another adventure in the near future. The boy was always all for _her_ taking risks, even though he himself could be overly cautious. She fleetingly wonders why, but ceases thinking about it when Lucas turns to her.

"So, okay. We know you can leave, but we don't know any more than that. Do you wanna try again? Maybe for slightly longer than a minute this time? But not too long, either. Probably around ten minutes or something?"

Wow, she's good. Or he's just easy to read. Smirking, she settles into her chair. "Where should I go?"

"Well, the cemetery is possible since we know you can go there. Or try something new...like maybe your house or something."

"I do miss my own bed." She muses. "Okay."

Closing her eyes, she brings her sanctuary to mind. Nothing feels different and she opens her eyes to see Lucas watching her. They both kind of frown at each other.

"Did you do anything?"

"Yeah. I wanted to go to my room, but decided 'hey, I'm already here'. Way to go, me." He ignores the sarcasm that practically drips off every word and slumps into the chair next to her, rubbing at the back of his neck.

"Did you really let yourself want it, Peyton?"

"What?" She has no idea what he means by that, and with the day she's had, her fuse is too short to play word games with him. He usually trips her up anyway, forcing her to look deeper into herself than she wants to in order to elicit startling revelations. This is damn well not going to be one of those times if she has her way.

Lucas rolls his eyes at her mutinous expression. "I'm guessing you really wanted your mom earlier. So you went there. Then you freaked out about being away from your...body, so you came back. Maybe you're scared to leave again, so you stayed."

Peyton really hates when he does that. He takes something that sounds so simple, but says it in a way that makes her examine the underlying emotions. Damn him, for making it one of those times. No. She didn't let herself have it, because she's worried about what being away from her body could do. Despite her earlier suspicions regarding being too afraid to wake from her coma, she knows she doesn't want to actually die. She likes being alive. If something were to seriously happen while she's gone, would she be aware of it before it's too late? Or would she come back to find herself _gone_? That's assuming she could return to her room at all, because it's just as possible she could simply fade away mid-step, mid-word.

Her silence seems to be enough of an answer for Lucas, because he shifts closer to the hospital bed and takes hold of 'her' hand. She smiles to herself as the sensation echos around her own hand.

"I'll hold your hand if you want me to. I promise, I won't leave. And I'll be here to make sure something doesn't happen."

"But what if it does?" The thread of fear in the question disquiets her, but she can't help it.

Lucas squeezes her hand gently. "Then we deal with it."

Words said so simply, she couldn't help but believe them. With a deep fortifying breath, Peyton stands, closes her eyes, and really lets herself want something; something she'd kind of wanted all day.

She still feels Lucas' hand enfolding hers, still has solid ground underneath her feet, but there's the sound of wind rustling through leaves, crickets in the distance. The silence here feels more profound. Or maybe that's just her. Brooke told her once, that it was weird to feel at ease surrounded by hundreds of dead people. At the time, Peyton had rolled her eyes and changed the topic to something more lighthearted, regarding her best friend's new skirt. But she hadn't thought of it that way; those markers stood for people who were—or are—loved. It's a symbol of remembrance and comfort; sitting among those signs of emotion to talk to her mom felt right. Another way to remember the woman who still continues to shape her life.

She says nothing beyond the first _hi mom_ choosing to instead bask in the silence. She can relax enough to enjoy it, since she can still feel Lucas' gesture of comfort. She figures if it starts to fade or change, then she'll know. She lets her gaze flitter aimlessly around her before it lands on a headstone not that far from her mom's. Emblazoned on the marble is a single name: Scott.

It's a fresh stone, newly placed, that gleams in the moonlight. One that was placed there way too soon, like another, faded, one positioned right in front of her. Sadness descends at the thought, at the fact that Lucas has to feel what she has. At the thought that she's been so wrapped up in her disconnection, she hasn't really been supporting Lucas through his loss. When he'd been there for one of hers and so very compassionate about the other.

Peyton smiles a soft goodbye to her mom and walks over to Keith. Studying the words engraved in the headstone, she lightly traces the dates with a fingertip that can't touch, but only hover. In a way, if it weren't for Keith, a marker for her would have that same last date.

"Hi, Keith." She murmurs lightly, lowering to kneel on the ground. "I'm sorry I missed the funeral. Actually, I'm sorry I'll never have the chance to really get to know you. Luke's told me a lot about you...all good things, so don't worry. You did a really great job with him, you know? He really loves you and I know that he honestly looked up to you, seeing in you the kind of man he wants to be. And he's becoming that man, he truly is, even though I'm not sure he sees that yet."

She falls silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts before continuing, "I guess I just wanted you to know that. You helped raise a good guy, one who tries so hard to be the best person he can. The kind of person who'd run back _into_ a terrifying situation when the smart thing would've been to run _away_, simply because he wanted to help. Then you did the same thing. I think that says a lot." A wry but grateful smile pulls at her lips, "I'm here because of that, so...thanks."

Climbing to her feet, Peyton once again studies the words etched underneath his name. She thinks, in the list of descriptors, they left off some relevant ones. Like saying he was an amazingly supportive friend for Karen, or a great uncle to Lucas; or even Lucas' father figure, or Karen's great love. It's hard to capture what a person means to someone with only a few simple words, but she finds it sad that whoever ordered this didn't even try to capture what Keith meant to Lucas. Instead, there's only a remark about being a son and a brother. Relationships Lucas had told her in the past weren't very strong for Keith or as important to him, as he chose to foster a sense of family elsewhere, with two people he loved. The two people whose remembrance isn't written in stone.

Peyton can't exactly explain why that should bother her, but it does. At least with her mom's, it describes a beloved wife and mother, capturing a small element of the woman, but lending comfort to her daughter at every visit. Somehow, it makes her feel loved, like being a mom was a role important to Anna. It also suggests Anna leaving behind people who honestly love her, and cherish what she was to them. What she still is, really.

But maybe it doesn't really matter in the long run. As long as there are people who still remember, who still miss their loved ones, then what's on the headstone isn't so important. Her mom is her mom because that's how Peyton still sees her. Keith is Lucas' dad because that's how Lucas sees him. Everyone else's opinion just don't matter.

Smiling to herself, Peyton pretends to run her hand—the one being held by Lucas—over Keith's headstone, since she can't physically do it. Neither can Lucas, being stuck in her hospital room at the moment. This way, they both kind of can. "He loves you. I love him."

She freezes, utterly shocked at the words that just left her mouth. Mind buzzing, she kind of scurries back to her mom, needing that connection. Needing advice she'll never really get.

Plopping down in front of her mom's headstone, she starts rambling, "Oh god, mom. You know how—well, you say stuff that you probably shouldn't? I did that. In the library. I told my _best friend's_ boyfriend that I loved him. And then I kissed him." She huffs out a breath of air, hands flying around with her words. "I thought I was gonna die, and he took care of me. It was just in case I did die, you know? That's all it was. That's _all_."

She takes it as a refutation when the breeze picks up for a second, sending the leaves clattering against each other and creating a blast of sound. Almost like a scolding. One that doesn't have the intended effect, as Peyton settles at the whimsical thought. Sighing, she lets her mind go back to the moment in the library, where she'd leaned against one of her closest friends. If it had been anyone in her circle of classmates, she probably would have said the same thing. She would have wanted her friends to know that she loves and appreciates them.

Honesty compels her to admit that she wouldn't have kissed any of them. And the _I love you _wouldn't have held the same meaning as it did for Lucas.

"I guess you can still tell when I'm lying, huh Mom?" A mischievous grin fades as quickly as it bloomed. "I guess a part of me has always loved him, since the beginning. But I couldn't, you know? For a lot of reasons, but mainly because I didn't want to hurt all of us again. Me, Brooke... Then Luke and I were barely friends, and there was Jake...it was just easier to only think of him as a friend."

She dances her fingers across the back of the hand Lucas is 'holding,' for the first time feeling guilty for having that sensation. He's still Brooke's boyfriend. He's still just a "great friend" of hers and nothing more. He still probably thinks the library wasn't as much as it was.

But it does mean more than that. It's also something she _can't_ mean. She won't do that to her best friend again, especially since Lucas and Brooke really love each other. She doesn't want to lose them both, like she had for a period of time last year...she doesn't want to be alone.

Glancing around, making sure no one's nearby—not that they could hear or see her there—she braces herself, half expecting something to happen at her confession, "I'm in love with Lucas."

This is probably the last time she'll says it out loud, since there's no one to condemn her for feeling that way. She's in limbo, stuck somewhere between living life and moving beyond it. She can say whatever she needs to because no one can hear it.

"I have to bury it. It's not like I can do anything about it anyway." She tells her mom, voice wavering. It's a bitter pill to swallow, but a necessary one. As long as he and Brooke are happy, she can be okay. And maybe—she's hoping—those feeling will go away, or turn out to be more platonic than they seem at the moment. "Who knows, right?" Peyton murmurs, a little hopeful, but a lot skeptical.

She lapses into silence again, savoring the way she feels right now. Lighter for being honest and peaceful for accepting what is. And what isn't.

It's the loss of sensation around her hand that has her straightening in alarm. A sharp pinch to her toe sends her panicked thoughts to 'her' as she's once again in her hospital room, disconcerted at the abrupt change in scenery. Focusing her gaze, it lands on the laughing blue eyes of the boy she was just thinking about, playfully holding his hands up in the universal sign of surrender.

"I didn't do it." He exclaims on a chuckle.

"God, Lucas!" She presses her hands to her chest, "You scared me! I thought something happened!" She has the urge to hit him, but she can't. That sucks.

"Sorry." He smiles boyishly, patting 'her' foot, before turning serious. "I was getting worried about you."

Eyes flying to her unconscious self, she takes a step forward and frowns. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He assures her quickly, gesturing to the monitors that are tracking her vital signs, "Not a blip at all."

"Ookaaay." She exhales, shaking off the panic and easing down into one of the chairs.

Lucas takes the other chair, tilting his head at her with a half shrug. "You were gone for longer than I expected. Almost twenty minutes. I wasn't sure how—or even if—I could bring you back."

She quirks her eyebrow, "So you pinch me?"

"Yep. Popped into my head. My mom used to do that when I was younger and sleeping too deeply. Apparently, it was the only sure fire way to wake me up."

She nods softly, charmed by the mental picture of a younger Karen trying to wake a heavily sleeping boy, and resorting to tweaking his toes. It's not a vital secret or anything, but it's another thing she can relish knowing about this boy she loves, before she has to box the feelings up and face reality. A reality in which she hopefully wakes from her coma soon.

Seeing him now, having his blue eyes watching her, fighting the urge to smooth down his disheveled hair, brings the weight of her earlier acknowledgement crashing down on her. It's disheartening and painful to know she loves him when he'll never feel the same way. And when she does come out of her coma, when life resumes as it must, she'll have to sit back and watch the boy she loves with the girl he loves. Is it any wonder a part of her isn't looking forward to that?

Peyton's shoulders go back, and her chin rises as she internally bolsters her defenses. It isn't like she hasn't done it before, the first time Brooke dated Lucas.

She blinks owlishly at the hand that waves in front of her face and the accompanying question, "Peyton? You still here? Where'd you go?"

"Nowhere." She frowns, "I think."

"What?"

Peyton shifts in her chair to face him, noting the puzzled look on his face. She responds with one of her own. "Did I leave, or something?"

"Oh. No. You just dazed out for a minute. What's on your mind?"

She shrugs. Lucas would be the absolute last person she'd confess to regarding this. Needing a change in subject, she prompts, "Hey, so what did you wanna talk to me about when you first came?"

He hesitates, looking like he's debating not letting the matter drop, but yields to the shift of topic. "Not much really. Just thought we could talk about how we can get you connected again." A smirk graces his features, "You know, go over the list of 'movie tricks' you still have to try?"

"Shut up!" Pouting a little, she ducks her head in consternation and waits. It only takes seconds, really.

"I'm sorry. I was only teasing." She can hear the apology in his voice, which she finds sweet, but she doesn't bother to hide the giggle that escapes when she raises her eyes to meet his. He squints at her, "Wait—''

"Sucker!" Peyton chuckles, rolling her eyes. "Dude, I'm not _that_ sensitive!"

He rolls his eyes too, waving away her words with a careless movement of his hand. "_Anyway_, I didn't get any new ideas today. You?"

"Nope. I mostly spent the day listening to people talk to a sleeping person. Tried to work my mojo, but no luck. Oh! Actually, Nate almost noticed, but not really."

"How did he _almost_ notice?"

"I think he thought he was just imagining things, 'cause he kept brushing it off or something. But he actually seemed to look in my direction a few times."

"Wow," Lucas states in a tone of disbelief. "I wonder why him?"

Peyton shrugs. "I figured, you see me, he's your brother... Plus, I did date him for a long time, so he'd know me, you know?"

"But wouldn't Brooke know you?" He counters, causing Peyton to sigh loudly in frustration. "Or your dad?" That's exactly what she had thought, too.

"I don't know, okay?" Agitation clear, she shoots to her feet, but doesn't really go anywhere. She just needs to stand, or move a little, aiming to contain the mix of feelings.

Today had been one looong day, with various emotions batting at her, rarely giving her a chance to come to terms with one before another one flew her way. She still blames Lucas for that. Just a little.

"You know," she says consideringly, "A lot of this is your fault."

He stares at her incredulously, "My fa—how?"

Scowling, she throws her arm up, "The sudden rush of people parading through my room? Don't try to deny that had a lot to do with you. Haley even said something about it to me, not to mention, Brooke!"

"You mean the people who love you coming to visit you?" He argues, narrowing his eyes at her scoff.

"Yeah, the people who didn't bother until _you_ told them to."

"Peyt—"

"AND," she interrupts heatedly, "_You_ didn't bother to come until my dad showed up at your house!"

He apparently wasn't going to fight back. "I told you why. I'm pretty sure Brooke told you why. It hasn't been easy for any of us."

She deflates with those words, dropping back into her chair and leaning her head back. "Yeah. I get that. It doesn't make it hurt any less."

Silence reigns for a few moments, Peyton feeling drained from everything that happened. It was up, down, up, down, wearing on her mentally and emotionally. There didn't seem to be any answers, at least not easy or straightforward ones. Those that did present themselves only led to more questions until Peyton was a convoluted mass of contradictions.

"I'm just tired, Luke." A whispered sigh that unintentionally echoes words spoken that day in the library.

She stares at the ceiling, letting her thoughts swirl around, not bothering to focus on any one thing at the moment, since her emotions are on overload. It's easier to not think about any of it.

"Peyton, you do want to come back, don't you?"

The dejected tone and the slight wobble to the words disarms her; startling enough to have her blurting out an answer without even thinking about it. "I don't really know right now."

Sometimes, truths reveal themselves when you stop thinking. And they're not always easy to hear.

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**A/N: For those that wanted NP interaction...sorry! I tried (I wanted it too!), but it just wouldn't flow for me. I didn't like it, so I started over and got this! Tell me what you think!**


	5. No Wise Words

**A/N: Thank you so much for the great reviews, especially those I can't respond to! They're definitely appreciated. :)**

**Not so sure about this chapter, but it moves the story along for later...but I do love the ending part. Hope you enjoy it as well! Oh, it's also a little more Lucas heavy...**

**I don't own OTH or it's characters, only the journey I'm designing for them. As well as any and all mistakes, as this isn't beta'd. Anything quoted within 3 quote marks, like this "'blah blah blah'" is dialogue lifted from the show where it seemed to fit (some scattered in earlier ch's too, that I forgot to mention). Don't own that stuff either.**

**Chapter title comes from a lyric in "Breakeven" by The Script

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**Ch5: No Wise Words Gonna Stop The Bleeding**

_"'I'm tired, Luke. Are you tired?'"_

_Turning his head to see the obscenely pale face of one of his best friends, Lucas responds, "'Yeah. But you gotta stay awake, alright? Talk to me. Um...tell me about a good day.'"_

_She does, sharing a story of two young girls who build a snow-fort, finding a sense of safety in hiding away from the real world for a time. Amusement flashes through him quickly, before the moment takes a serious turn._

_She knows._

_It's not glass that cut her leg, it's a bullet that's still in there. She's steadily bleeding out, the loss of blood reflecting in the hollowness of her face and the sheer effort it takes for her to keep her eyes open._

_"Luke..." Her voice is thready, weak, and it scares him. He's never been in a situation like this before; trying to be strong so she remains strong, but so scared the choices he's making are the wrong ones. It all feels too grown-up and he's nowhere near ready for that kind of responsibility._

_But he made her a promise. And he's going to keep it._

_"Yeah?" He hopes she can't hear the fear in his own voice, hear how unsure of everything he is._

_She doesn't say anything more, simply dropping her head onto his shoulder. He looks down at her, surprised and worried._

_"Peyton?" He lightly jostles his arm against her, hoping for a response. There isn't one. Panicking, he shifts his body so that she's lying across his chest as he searches for a pulse. There isn't one. "Peyton?" there's a half shout and a stronger shake, but still, nothing._

"'You're always saving me.'"

_But he didn't. And now it's too late, because she's gone. Too late, too late, too late..._

Tearing out of the dream with a wordless, garbled shout, Lucas fights off his blankets and tries to catch his breath. He's sweating, heart's pounding, eyes wild as they dart through the pale light streaming into his room. Not true. Just a dream. She's alive. Those three statements play on repeat in his mind while he focuses on slowing his breathing. He's so intent on his mental mantra, he practically jumps out of his skin at the tentative touch on his arm.

"Luke?" Her voice is timid, the touch light. "What's wrong?"

Blinking rapidly, he scrubs a hand over his face and focuses his gaze on the girl next to him who's wearing a worried expression. Her hand travels the length of his arm in what he knows is supposed to be a comforting manner, but it simply fails to soothe him right now. He's afraid of trying to answer that question, especially with Peyton's last words ringing in his head. Maybe most especially to this girl, who loves the blonde one like a sister.

"Nothing. Just a nightmare." He attempts a weak smile, "I'm sorry I woke you up, Brooke."

A dimple peeks out. "It's okay. You wanna talk about it?"

He shakes his head. There's just enough light to see the disappointment creep into her eyes, which makes him feel guilty. But he was never all that good at expressing his feelings to others.

"Just a nightmare." He repeats, both to answer her unasked question and to reaffirm the fact that reality was far different than the end of that dream.

Brooke sighs, tangling her fingers with his and pulling their joined hands to rest on her knee. "Talk to me. Let me help." She pleads softly, catching his gaze with hers.

"I don't..." He trails off, gathering his thoughts before continuing, "I'm not sure you can right now. It's one of those things I have to work through on my own."

He can tell she's not happy with his answer, but it's one of the few things he knows for certain. Ever since he was a child, he's needed to get lost in his own head before talking to anyone about an issue. That is, after all, why Brooke nicknamed him 'Broody', so he doesn't know why she's so surprised by the fact now.

"Come on, Lucas." This time her tone's more demanding. "I think, of all people, you would realize that you can't—you _shouldn't_—do everything alone. Life's too short, you know?"

_Too short to live it as a bad person._

His breath catches in his throat when that moment flashes into his head. Peyton's words reverberate even more strongly now than they had when she said them the night they ended—before they ever began. She had spoken about not wanting to hurt the one person who'd been there while she struggled through life after Anna. Brooke. And now the brunette was using those same words to express how he's hurting the both of them by disappearing into the fortress of his own counsel.

He knows he's made some mistakes in the past, but the last thing he would ever intentionally do is hurt someone. He likes to believe that he's been better lately; a better boyfriend, a better friend, a better brother. He's fought hard to get his relationships back on track, especially in proving to Brooke that he loves her enough to be willing to fight for her trust.

Not that she really gives it to him.

Lucas dismisses that last thought from his head, not liking the bitter edge to it. But it doesn't stop it from lingering. She has every right to be wary, with how he betrayed her in the past. It's his penance to bear stoically, until the day comes when she realizes how much he's changed since last year.

Her grip on his hand tightens. "Luke? _Why_ is it so hard for you to just _let_ me _in_?"

"You wouldn't understand." And she wouldn't. No one would, really. Except maybe the person who'd make soothing sounds while leading him into a padded room. Or the only person who's experiencing a large chunk of this with him.

"Then explain it to me." Brooke's eyes are luminous, swimming with tears that he's grateful aren't falling.

He shrugs helplessly, absently disengaging their hands to clasp both of his behind his neck. "I _am_ trying."

It's obvious she has no idea what he means by that. But she's not the only one confused. A memory of Haley striving to draw him into conversation by bringing up their school year predictions pops into mind. He knows she was showing him that while some hadn't explicitly come true (like Keith and his mom getting married), it didn't make them any less true (like Keith still being a father figure for him despite there not being a wedding). He remembers that she had attempted to bring up his list from this year as an example of predictions coming true.

The first one on it: try again with Brooke Davis.

He did try...he _is_ trying. But it's just now hitting him that he never said he had to succeed; only try. He's tired, simply tired, of having to try so hard all the time and get absolutely nowhere.

Without forethought he queries, "Brooke, what are we doing?"

She blinks, confused. "What do you mean?"

"This." Lucas sweeps his hand in a motion to encompass the two of them. "We try _so_ hard to make us work, but it's getting harder. I love you, I do, and I love you for trying to understand, but...you just...don't." He sighs and gestures in a way to show he doesn't have the words to explain.

He sees her rear back in utter shock, mouth opening and closing as she struggles to process what he's saying and what he's implying.

"Does this have something to do with Peyton?" Finally gaining her balance, she asks the same thing she usually does. And it only serves to reinforce to him that their relationship really isn't what he thought it was.

"Exactly," He explains, feeling worn out. "That right there. That lack of trust. How can we be trying to make us work if there's no _real_ trust, if we're just mouthing the words and not backing them up?"

"So, we can try harder." She urges, fisting the blanket that's still tangled around her legs. "We can do better."

He studies her sadly, this first girl he's ever been in a relationship with. "But that's just it. It's too hard, especially with everything else going on."

She leans forward, "Well, isn't there a saying about not making big decisions after traumatic events? Maybe we shouldn't be doing this now. Not until things settle down a little."

"Brooke." He murmurs wearily. "I have a lot of things to work out right now, with me, with my mom, and all the stuff with Keith..." a deep, shuddering breath at the thought. "I just...can't worry about us, too. It's too confusing to deal with on top of everything else."

"But—"

"Life's too short to keep trying for things that aren't working."

At the briskness of his statement, Brooke seems to fold in on herself. That's when the tears fall, each one sending a stab of guilt into his gut. He exhales through his own feeling of tears, keeping his eyes dry and his emotions steady. He didn't lie. He does love her. But he doesn't know how to let her in, he can't be the guy she seems to want him to be. Hell, he's not even sure what she means when she says that he doesn't let her in. He does the best he can.

She's always been insecure about Peyton since the mess they made last year, throwing it up in every single argument. He'd gone out of his way multiple times to convince her of his feelings, to stress the point that Peyton is his friend. But Brooke never let it go. _He_ never really let it go either, choosing to remain in Peyton's life when he could have sought to relieve Brooke's mind by staying away. But he _had_ to be the one who pushed into Peyton's world. He wanted to know things. He wanted her to know things.

He never stopped to consider exactly what he was doing with his actions. And now, when he can least deal with the drama, is when he's slapped in the face with it all. He has a sobbing girl currently falling apart next to him, and another girl miles away falling apart in a different way. He cares for both of them, and expresses that in different ways.

It disillusions him to realize that with one girl, the effort to be in her life really is an_ effort_. He had to fight, to play the games, and to constantly reassure. With the other one, he can simply just be.

"Luke…" He snaps his attention to the brunette, nervously watching her swipe at the tears on her face before saying what's on her mind. "_Please_ let me help you. I get that you think you need space, but I just...don't push me away, okay? I _want_ to be here for you. I want to help. However you need, okay?"

He's not sure she can give him what he needs. Because at this moment in time, he _needs_ space; to be alone in his head. He needs to not have to worry about someone else's feelings as he explores his own. He needs his mom to snap out of the darkness. He needs Peyton to wake up and ease his mind of at least that one worry. He needs to not feel this intense anger at Jimmy, who's simply a boy, not a monster.

He needs Keith to be alive.

That's really the crux of the problem. He's spent years playing pretend; subtly and not so subtly rooting for his mom and uncle to finally get together. And when they do, when his pretend is so close to being reality...it shatters. Not just that, but he lost the one strong male influence he had. The one person he could talk to about life's issues, especially things he wasn't so comfortable with his mom hearing. He lost his father, at a time when he's just becoming an adult. When he can use that guidance he didn't always listen to. He just wants to have the _option_ of not listening. And he doesn't want to have to face the fact that that guidance will never be there again. That one of _his_ friends is responsible for it being gone.

Romantic issues? Right now, he's just numb. Those don't seem substantial at the moment, even though he knows loving someone and being loved are very important aspects of life. He can't say whether it's simply because he's too emotionally drained to worry about his relationship or because he's not as invested as he'd thought. Either way, the person sitting next to him is going to be the one who's hurt.

He sighs, finally forcing his eyes to really meet her red-rimmed ones. "I'm sorry." A whisper is all he can manage.

Her eyes blank as her head nods infinitesimally, and she lets out a shuddery, watery breath. Brooke slides off his bed, looking over at his desk. He follows her glance to see the clock, displaying the time of 5:43am. Awkwardness joins the feelings in the air, as they both just stare at the time. It's way too early to do anything, but going back to sleep (especially next to each other) is out of the question.

"Yeah." She murmurs, just loud enough for him to hear. "But not sorry enough."

Abruptly deciding on a course of action, Brooke reaches for the light switch, flooding the room, making both of them hastily squint against the painful burst of brightness. When she starts gathering her things, Lucas looks on, both defeated and amazed.

"Brooke, wha...what are you doing?"

"I'm going to go stay at Peyton's." She tells him, without looking up from her busy hands. "Keep Larry company, you know? Focus on Peyton right now, since I'm not sure I'm ready to focus on this."

"Okay." His response is simple, and apparently not something she appreciates. She slams a wadded T-shirt roughly into her duffel bag, startling him.

Maybe that's the moment when he fully realizes what he's done. That he effectively ended them, breaking her heart and making her cry. He's not crying, and his heart's numb. He's not as affected as she is. But it does sneak under his defenses that he's hurt her, which hurts him.

"Brooke, I—" He stops, lightly stilling her hands, wanting her full attention. "I never want you to think that I don't care about you, because I do. But maybe not in the way that you deserve. Or the way I should care about someone I'm in a relationship with."

She quietly slides her hands from beneath his, leaving a chill to glide over his skin. Fiddling with a zipper on the bag, she sniffles.

He continues, voice low as he hopes to make a point but not bring her more pain, "I think, if you're honest with yourself, that it might be the same for you, too."

"Maybe." She looks up at him, making an attempt to smile, but doesn't get past a grimace. "But it still hurts."

Lucas smiles faintly. "That's how you know it was something important."

A single tear tracks it's way down her flushed cheek. "Yeah. Peyton told me that once. We were just kids...it was maybe a year-and-a-half, two, since Anna had died. The Lion King was still a new movie for us, so we were watching it." Her tone lightens and strengthens with the memory she's sharing. Her hands more sure as she places the last of her things in her bag. "She told me that how Simba felt about Mufasa being gone was like how she felt about Anna."

Like he felt—feels—about Keith.

For the first time it feels like he and Brooke are on the same wavelength as their gazes meet in understanding. Hers glows with compassion, eclipsing the pain in her eyes, but he can still see it lurking. It actually feels like she understands him and where he's coming from; something he hadn't noticed had been missing in their relationship before.

"You won't lose me like that, Brooke. I want us to be able to be friends." He does want that; there's more to her than most people know about, and he considers himself lucky to be one of those that gets to see the real Brooke Davis.

She shakes her head, then sighs, fluttering her hand in the air in a slightly dismissive gesture. "Maybe. Maybe not. I don't know right now." She gives him a cynical parody of a smile. "I need time."

He tilts his head in acknowledgement of that dart, and concedes, since that's what he wanted as well.

She nods at him. Then, gathering up her things, she heads to the door, pausing only a moment at his soft _goodbye_ before leaving him to his thoughts. He hadn't seen this coming. Barely a week ago they were happy, even teasing each other about her time capsule contribution. A week ago he was making the choice to be adopted by Keith. A week ago he was attending a benefit concert put together by Peyton in honor of Ellie and breast cancer research. Now, he was a mess, Keith was gone, and Peyton was in a coma.

Life could really suck sometimes.

Dragging himself out of bed, he runs a hand over his face with a loud exhale of breath. He needs a good stiff drink. Or, barring that, at least some water.

He flips the light switch on his way out, seeking comfort in the darkness, and makes his way into the kitchen. He's surprised to see his mom sitting at the table, a mug clasped between her hands. She looks up at his entrance and frowns slightly.

"I heard you and Brooke talking."

He retrieves a mug and helps himself to the cocoa still in the pot on the stove. "Sorry. If we woke you."

"I was up." She sighs. "Can't really sleep."

"Yeah. I know." He joins her at the table, fiddling with his mug rather than drinking any of the liquid.

There's a slightly uncomfortable silence that stretches between the two, Lucas unsure how to breach it. He's never felt this way around his mom before and he's floundering.

"Brooke and I broke up." It's an abrupt icebreaker, but it serves it's purpose, since Karen's eyes fly to his and compassion leaks into her expression.

She tilts her head, "You okay?"

"I think so. Yeah." He nods, relaxing slightly at this glimpse of his mother.

Maybe he let down his guard too soon. Maybe he was just being overly optimistic that any sign of life meant progress. Because she simply nods, and goes back to staring into her mug, as if all of life's answers could be found within.

Something inside him snaps like a rubber band that outlived it's usefulness. "What would you have done if I said I'm not alright? That I feel like I'll _never_ be alright again?"

He can tell that the anger and resentment in his voice startle her, but she still makes no move beyond a weak shake to her head.

"How are _you_, mom? Are you _okay_ right now, without Keith?" Lucas goads, letting anger get the best of him.

With those words, Karen's up like a shot, rounding the table to deliver a resounding slap. "Don't you dare! Don't you _dare_ bring that up!" Her voice cracks and her chest is heaving with the ragged breaths escaping her mouth.

He's reeling from the slap and all of the emotions he can't bring himself to tamp down at the moment. "Why not? It affects me too, mom!"

"No! You don't get to say that!"

"What?" He's aghast, hurt, and confused.

"Did you even think about what you were doing? What you put us through when we found out you were still inside? That you _ran _back inside? 'Did you think of me at all? What I would do if I lost you?' What Keith would've done?" Her raised voice starts to reach shrieking proportions as she glares at him with the coldest look he's ever been on the receiving end of.

He rears back in shock, "Mom—"

"No! How could you be so _selfish _as to put me through that? If you hadn't gone back in, then—" Her mouth slams shut and she's shaking so hard. She didn't say it, but it lingers in the air all the same.

_If he hadn't gone back in, then Keith wouldn't have been in that hallway, with Jimmy, at that moment._

"It's my fault." The words barely make it past the lump in his throat as tears start welling in his eyes. He _knows_ that, which is one very big reason he didn't want to think about it. But he _was_ starting to believe when other people told him he wasn't at fault. All the same, it's entirely different to know your mom thinks that it is.

She doesn't refute his statement. Actually, she's back to the way she's been all week; closed off and silent. With one last icy look he can't decipher, she turns on her heel and marches right back into her room, shutting the door behind her with an audible click.

He's frozen for just one second more. "DAMN IT!" In one lightening-fast move, he hurls his still-full mug at the wall, watching distantly as the ceramic splinters and the dark liquid splatters everywhere. He simply stares as the puddle widens. Flashes of another widening, dark puddle jump through his mind. He's not too out of it to note the deafening silence from behind the closed door of his mom's room, either. It's all just adds up to that last straw, as he mimics his mother almost exactly, in demeanor and action.

He sits on the end of his bed, feeling absolutely nothing. Not pain, not happiness, not relief, not sadness, not even anger. Just nothing. But it's the best he's felt about the situation this whole time.

So maybe he'll stay that way.

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**A/N: Soo, what'cha think? I'd love to hear reactions to that last part, and any ideas you wanna throw out there about it!**


	6. No One's Left To Take Your Side

**A/N: Again, thank you for the wonderful reviews! They really help keep this story going.**

**That said, I don't own OTH, the characters, or anything in a "'triple quote'" :) I can only claim the arc I'm playing with and any mistakes you find, as it's not beta'd! **

**chapter title comes from a lyric in "Angels On The Moon" by Thriving Ivory.

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**Ch6: No One's Left To Take Your Side**

He's a little stiff from having spent the last few hours maintaining the same wooden position, but he was too numb to move. He can now, only because Nature gave him no other choice.

He passes his mom's room, noticing the wide-open door and that she's not in there. Nor is she in the kitchen when he warily creeps in. He does, however, see that the mess he made earlier is no longer there, save for some faint stains from the chocolate on the baseboard. _Of course. _That's_ taken care of._

Frowning, he moves towards the coffeepot, intent on consuming something that will help him get through this so far hellish day. He stops short at the note lying right in front of it.

Lucas,

Went with Larry.

-M.

It's more impersonal than a note from her has ever been in his life; if he cared, it'd probably bother him. But he doesn't. Not now.

His motions are on autopilot as he makes fresh coffee and even manages to eat some dry pieces of toast. His thoughts are one big blank, not focusing on any one thing at all...not even really comprehending the hand-to-mouth movement as he has breakfast.

"Luke?"

Thank goodness he just swallowed his sip of coffee and placed the mug down, otherwise the sudden interruption to the quiet could have had him scalding himself as he jerks in reaction.

Turning, he sees Peyton peering at him worriedly from beside the sink. Her glance is frank as it travels over his rumpled form and ravaged face, probably noting the signs of his lack of sleep.

"Peyton." He returns coolly, bringing his attention back to the empty plate in front of him, tracing a fingertip through the crumbs left behind.

He hears her sigh, before she walks over, hovering next to a chair at the table, nonplussed. He grudgingly uses his foot to shove it back, allowing her room to sit if she wants to. _She's_ not the Peyton he'd want to see right now anyway. The one he wants to talk to would be a solidly _real_ person, giving him one less thing to not have to think about.

She gives him an odd look, before venturing, "Um, hey. I just thought, you know, that I could use someone to talk to. And you're it. I mean, not just because you're the only one who can see me, but also because you're usually a really good person to talk to." She offers up a small smile that quickly turns to a grimace at his non-reaction.

A short burst of silence is all she allows before she's continuing, "Luke, talk to me."

It's her unknowing duplication of words spoken by Brooke earlier, that places the first crack in the ice encompassing him. Letting memories of everything that happened this morning sneak back into his mind. Things he doesn't want there.

He musters up enough energy to raise his head and spear her with a glare. But at this point, it's only half-hearted.

She brushes it aside with a drawn out, "Ookaaay." Shrugging, "Apparently you don't want to. That's okay, because I have some stuff."

Peyton pauses a beat, presumably to allow for a response he doesn't give. With another weird look aimed his way, she says, "I'm sorry. About yesterday. I didn't mean to imply that you guys aren't important or anything. Or that you don't care. I know you all do. I guess I just needed to vent, to be mad for a while. So...sorry."

Sighing, she knots her fingers together, letting the silence lapse. Her words are intended to soothe and apologize, but they definitely don't achieve that goal. Rather, they send anger coursing through his veins and serve as an outlet for it all, as the ice encasing him finally shatters.

"'That's just great, Peyton!'" He lurches to his feet with force, sending his chair careening back until it hits the cabinets behind him and topples over. She flinches, eyes wide and shocked at what she's seeing.

But he ignores that. Motioning with one arm to make a point and using the other to clutch a fist in the back of his hair, Lucas unleashes all his fury at the not-truly-there girl. "Sorry doesn't change any of it, does it? It doesn't stop Jimmy from bringing a gun to school, it doesn't stop Keith from dying, it doesn't stop my _mom_ from saying it's _my_ fault he's dead! Does it? No! But _you_ needed to be mad! _You_ needed, _you_ wanted, _you_ think... You know what? Right now, _I_ just don't give a damn!"

He's breathing hard and fast, scowling at her, resenting her very presence at the table. For a lot of reasons. He watches her mouth flatten and her eyes blank. For the first time since they met, he can't read her eyes. A small frisson of unease worms it's way past the cold anger.

"Fine." Her voice is clipped, emotionless as she stands. "I won't burden you anymore."

Before he can even respond, she's gone. Vanished, right before his eyes. That unease wants to spread, but he squelches it. Let her go off and pout; he doesn't care. Let her feel even a _fraction_ of what he does, because then she wouldn't be so quick to—

"You know what, screw that!" He blinks at the furious blonde who's back, standing firmly with her hands on her hips as she lays into him, "No, sorry doesn't change anything! Sorry is crap! But it's all I have!"

"IT DOESN'T MATTER!" He shouts.

She yells right back. "I KNOW THAT! I know, better than anyone, I _know_!"

That gives him an instant of pause, because it's true. But that's not the point. "Not everything is about _you_, Peyton!"

"Oh, God! What is the matter with you?" She cries, waving her hands in frustration. "Fine, it's not 'all about me', whatever! Don't yell at me!"

So he doesn't. He grits his teeth and sneers, "Like I said: I. Don't. Give. A. Damn. About _any_ of it."

A bitter half-laugh escapes her lips as she just nods slightly. "Well, I guess I know where I stand now, don't I?"

And she's gone again. He's left staring around his empty kitchen. He wants to hit something. Or break something. But he doesn't. He wants to mean what he just said. He wants to not care. But he didn't, and he does.

"Peyton?" He says aloud, pausing to see if she could respond in any way. Nothing happens.

He drops into the chair she had occupied, leaning forward to bury his face in his hands. Everything is so messed up. Everything just hurts. He tried ignoring it. He tried pretending. But nothing is helping. And he just ran off the _one_ person who might understand. He knows she's probably felt all these same things with her mom. Twice. He groans to himself with that realization. And the loss of Ellie was pretty recent, too.

But it's easier being mad, focusing his anger on something outside himself. Deep down, he knows that Keith was the kind of man to jump in and help, especially when it involved someone he cared about. He wouldn't have hesitated if he believed he could make the situation better. Regardless if Lucas had been in that school or not, Keith would have been. Lucas accepts that now. Talking to Haley, talking to Peyton...it had helped. He just needed to let it sink in a little first.

What he can't get past is that his mom doesn't see it that way. That she blames him. While he accepts the 'Keith was a good guy' aspect, he can't help feeling guilty anyway. For an entirely different reason than just running back into school that day.

Jimmy was his friend, and Lucas somehow let him slip through the cracks. The situation got so bad, Jimmy felt the need to bring a gun to school. To point it at a person who cared about him and pull the trigger. And that's unforgivable. Utterly so, in Lucas' opinion.

It would never have happened at all if Lucas hadn't left Jimmy behind last year.

_People always leave._

He starts shaking, struggling for breath when it hits him again. Peyton. Jimmy. His mom. That's when the first sob erupts from his tight throat. And they keep on coming; harsh, ugly sounds that fight past the lump of emotion in search of some relief. Soft keening cries join in as he wheezes for air, burrowing his face into his arms on the table.

He lets himself get swept away in the maelstrom of emotion, to grieve for really the first time since it happened.

**0.o o_o o.0**

At first, she was hurt. Then numb. Then angry. Followed by sad and confused. Now, she's a sickly combination of all of them, and she hates it.

Peyton's standing at the foot of her hospital bed, dispassionately studying her unconscious self. Maybe there's a reason she's still like that. Maybe she's supposed to have a break from being kicked around by life. She's exhausted from having to constantly fight her way back up, only to find something else waiting to push her back down. But if that's true, she sure isn't getting a break, existing in this limbo where she can _feel_ all the bad stuff, but not _do_ much about it. The confusing thing is, she's not sure if all of it is a stronger argument for waking up or for remaining in the coma.

Ever since her mom died, Peyton's been emotionally barricaded from the rest of the world. She never let herself need anyone. Even Brooke, the closest person to her, was never truly let all the way in. She hid, plain and simple. That way, it hurt less when people left. It wasn't a crippling pain to wave her dad away on jobs and return to an empty house where'd she be alone for months on end. It didn't put her out of commission to be treated like a doormat by an equally emotionally-stunted boyfriend, because she at least had human contact. And he could never hurt her, because he was held at arm's length.

But with Lucas...he _saw_ her. He helped knock down those walls and taught her to let people in. So she did.

Her friendship with Brooke proved to be able to withstand the crap thrown at it to come away stronger. She was able to gain an amazing influence in Ellie, and learn so much about life. She was able to be a better support system for her friends, allowing herself to sympathize and relate.

She let herself fall in love. No matter how hard she fought it, Lucas bulldozed right past her defenses and cared about _her_. All aspects of her.

And now, he _doesn't give a damn_.

She sighs, scrubbing the heel of her hands over her eyes. "Peyton Elizabeth Sawyer, what are we going to do now?" She dislikes all uses of the 'royal we' but it fits this situation, oddly enough.

No one else has been able to notice her in this state. Only Lucas. Apparently that doesn't matter anymore, though. The boy she loves just simply doesn't care. That hurts more than she ever thought she'd hurt again. At least if he's mad at her, it's an emotion. _Don't care_ translates to indifference, which has to be the worse thing to know someone you care about feels for you.

There's a part of her that's rationalizing his actions. Explaining away those awful things he yelled, and reminding her that she reacted with bitterness after she lost Anna. But she doesn't want to listen to that part of her. It really hurt; she kind of wants to wallow in it for a little while. She's good at the wallowing-in-sadness part...it's the rest of it she's still learning.

Before her tiny pity-party can become full blown, the door opens, ushering in her dad, who kicks the doorstop in place,...and Karen. The woman looks haggard, pale and exhausted. Peyton's surprised she actually left the house. She's even more surprised to see her _here_, of all places.

"Oh, Larry." There's a sharp intake of breath from Karen when she sees the teenage girl laying in the bed. Karen grabs Larry's coat sleeve as he goes to move past her.

Peyton watches her dad's face, seeing the tiredness etched there. He attempts a smile at the brunette woman, but it's a shaky one at best. "I know. But it looks worse than it is, you know? She has an I.V. drip, the rest of the machines are just monitors."

Karen nods, moving with him to the bed. The older woman softly runs a hand down the 'other' Peyton's arm. Of course, Peyton doesn't feel a thing at all. She doesn't even try to, really.

She's stunned. And maybe a little disgusted at the moment. Both at herself and the other woman.

_It doesn't stop my mom from saying it's my fault he's dead._

She hadn't thought of the words themselves, only the anger directed at her with them. No wonder Lucas was so angry; she doesn't know what she would have done if she'd been in his position. She stares at Karen, wondering what's going through her mind at the moment. Wondering if she's thinking about what she said to her son. Wondering if she regrets it yet.

"How are you holding up?" Larry looks over at Karen, who's still standing next to the hospital bed.

She shakes her head, not saying anything for a moment. Turning, she takes the chair next to Larry, settling down with a sigh. "I don't want to talk about me. How are _you_ doing? Any changes with Peyton?"

Her dad seems at a loss for words, rubbing a hand over his face with a deep sigh. "No. No changes. No idea what's causing this. No clue why she's not waking up. Just...nothing."

Karen reaches over and clasps his hand. "She's a fighter. She'll be okay, Larry."

"What if she's not?" He blinks furiously, voice gruff, "What'll I do if I lose her?"

"I don't know." The older brunette whispers, starting at the hospital bed. "I don't know."

Peyton whimpers, a tiny squeak deep in her throat. She can't be here for this. She doesn't want to hear this. She's in no frame of mind to deal with the level of emotion that can come with listening to this conversation.

Frantically, she thinks herself to the cemetery. Nothing. She pictures her room. She goes nowhere. Wanting to cry, but unable to, she tries a few more...the record store, the bridge she and Brooke used to sit under, even Lucas' house. But she's still in _that_ room, witnessing her dad battle back tears and Karen's half-sympathetic, half-knowing gaze on her unconscious self.

"She's all I have left, Karen." Her dad's voice breaks the silence. "I already lost Anna. I can't lose her, too."

That sets something off in Karen, as the older woman bursts into tears, startling Larry. She chokes out, "Oh god, what did I do? What did I do? Oh god..."

Desperate to leave, Peyton runs for the open door. And smacks up against something solid. She can't get out. Moving her hands against it, trying to find a way through. "Please, please, please, _please_." Her breathing becomes erratic, thoughts flying, emotions splintering. There doesn't seem to be any escape.

"Karen?"

"I blamed Lucas. For Keith's death." she cries, burying her face in her hands.

"_Oh god_." Her dad whips his head between his daughter laying on the bed and the woman sitting beside him, looking like he wants to vomit. "Because of Peyton?"

Peyton squeezes her eyes shut and slams her palms over her ears. She doesn't want to hear this. She _can't_. She really _really_ wants to be anywhere but here right now.

If either adult had been in any frame of mind to notice, they might have seen the very minute, but synchronized blip to all the monitors keeping track of the girl in the hospital bed that occurred that moment.

But they didn't.

**0.o o_o o.0**

His head feels like it's been stuffed with cotton. For all the crying he's done, for all the emotions he's been holding back, he feels so much better for having gotten them out.

Not so much for how, though. While the anger and sadness have been mostly assuaged, the guilt and self-loathing have only tripled. There's so many things he shouldn't have done, but no way to take them back now. Only try to make them right.

He has no clue how to even go about fixing the Jimmy thing...and he really doesn't want to, anyway. Not now, not ever. Not after this. Besides, it's too late. Jimmy's dead.

He's too raw to try to talk to his mom. He thinks that can wait until they both have some time to settle themselves first.

That leaves talking to Peyton.

After cleaning himself up, Lucas gets in his car and heads to the hospital, mentally crafting how to start his apology. He feels like crap for yelling at Peyton. Even worse for some of the things he yelled. He knows she's going through her own hell right now, and he knows that, if a comparison were made, she's been through a lot more bad things than he has.

Maybe, in part, that explains why he chose her to unleash pent up emotions upon. She lost her mother when she was eight. She found and lost a second mother figure when she was seventeen, only a few weeks before getting shot. She, better than anyone else he knows, understands what it feels like to lose a parent. He's just hoping she'll forgive him for disregarding that, and treating her like she doesn't know what he's going through when she's already been there. He's hoping she's perceptive enough to realize that he needed the support of her understanding to really let it all go in the first place. Though, he'll probably need to tell her that part. She can't read minds.

He doesn't _think_ so anyway...

Plus, he wants the chance to explain everything else that added to it. He needs to talk about his mom, and the impact of what she said to him. He needs to vent about Jimmy. He needs to question how his _friend_ could have killed Keith, a man who was never anything but kind to the teen. He wants someone more impartial to tell him if he's wrong in his anger towards the other boy, wrong for blaming Jimmy for reacting the way he did to the situation he found himself in. Or, if he's more wrong for forgetting about Jimmy in the first place, thus setting in motion the death of his own uncle.

That's the kind of guilt Lucas can't see going away anytime soon. He's hoping that maybe talking to Peyton will lead to some answers to those questions he has a hard time asking. But first, he has to find her.

By the time he gets to the hospital, Lucas has formulated at least four different ways to start the conversation they need to have. He figures he'll know the best one to use once he sees her initial reaction to his presence.

Taking the stairs in lieu of the much slower elevator, He hurries towards room 312, only slowing when he's near enough to hear sobbing coming from inside. It's the glances other people keep making towards the room that leave him positive it's not Peyton who's crying.

A sickening feeling curls through him as a terrifying thought occurs. Hands shaking, heart thudding rapidly, he eases his head around the door, praying to find a certain sight. Air gushes out of his lungs when he does: Peyton is still laying unconscious in the hospital bed, monitors emitting their steady beeps. She's still alive.

He turns his gaze and finds the source of the sobs. It's his mom, head buried against the shoulder of Peyton's dad. The man's hand is rubbing circles on his mom's back, his own eyes reddish and shiny from unfallen tears as he focuses blankly into space.

Lucas eases back after a quick glance reveals Peyton's not in the room with the other two. He doesn't want to be there, either. He can't deal with the emotions present, can't even imagine talking to his mom under these conditions.

He just wants to find Peyton.

Retracing his steps down the hall, he furtively glances around, trying to see if he can spot Peyton. Not that it makes much sense for her to be wandering around the hospital. She hates hospitals. He makes a face to himself as he hurries across the parking lot to Keith's—_his_—mustang. Knowing Peyton, there could actually be a million places to find her. Scratch that. In her current condition, she can't do half the things she usually would at those places. So that narrows down the list considerably.

But it gives him a good place to start. He drives through the intersection that marks Anna's accident. He passes by the closed businesses of the cafe and Tric (you never know), the empty River Court, the docks, the deserted schools and playgrounds. He takes a lightening-fast stroll around the cemetery, making sure to avoid looking at a certain gleaming stone. He's still not quite ready to do that yet.

Peyton's nowhere to be found. He's starting to panic a bit; how many places could the...spirit...of someone be?

Lucas scoffs a little at that thought. The answer is pretty much anywhere. But he doesn't think that's the case for Peyton, especially with how they left things that morning. There are only a few places she'd go to get away from things for a while. But he'd gone to those places, too. She wasn't anywhere.

His last stop is her house, a place he's been reluctant to look because of obvious reasons. But he does it anyway.

He raps against the front door once, before pushing it open. Larry's at the hospital and Peyton never minded before when people just walked in. But Brooke's supposed to be here, too, so he figures a warning might be a good idea. Thinking nothing of it, he heads straight up the stairs to Peyton's room, walking in and looking around for the person he really wants to see. Damn it. She's not there.

"Luke?"

He spins to find Brooke standing behind him, confusion on her face. "What are you doing here?"

"Umm." He shrugs helplessly. He's not sure how to explain his being here. And it's just now dawning on him that she could take his presence the wrong way. "I, uh...I thought..."

When he trails off, Brooke huffs out a sigh and pushes past him. "I thought you wanted _space_. What, you ready to talk now?" She folds her arms over her chest and eyes him coolly.

He shakes his head, "I just..." spying the bins of records leaning against the wall, "I thought that maybe I should get an album for Peyton or something."

Brooke narrows her eyes at him suspiciously, a flash of _something_ entering her gaze. "So why aren't you in a music store? Instead of Peyton's _bedroom_?"

"I meant bring one she likes and play it in her hospital room. It might also help Larry a little, you know?" He rattles off, edging towards the door. He needs to find Peyton. Right now.

He stops his movement when Brooke gives him a weird look, but he can't shake the feeling that something is seriously wrong and that he's wasting time. The brunette moves to the bins, absently flipping through the records and randomly pulling one out. She gestures with it towards him, "I can do that. You didn't have to come here and hand-select it for her yourself. There's a thing called the telephone. Or telling Larry."

He rolls his eyes, irritated by her tone and the fact that it's such a petty thing to focus on. He has bigger issues to deal with.

"Fine." He raises his hands in front of him, palms towards her. Backing out the door, he pauses long enough to tell her, "By the way, that's _Kool & The Gang_. Probably the absolute _last_ thing you should play for her in the hospital."

His final sight before leaving is her horrified and comprehending stare at the offending record in her hand. He doesn't stick around. Instead, he bounds down the stairs, glances quickly around the empty living room, and darts for his car. _Find her, find her, find her_. It's a chant in his head, sounding with every heartbeat, the sense of worry increasing with every repetition.

He doesn't know how to get her attention or make her come to him. It's not like he can call her up on a cell phone. And last time—

Of course. Last time, he captured her attention by touching unconscious Peyton. Maybe that will work this time, too. He's slightly more hopeful now that he as a plan. He doesn't want to think about what he'll do if it fails.

It doesn't take long to backtrack to the hospital, and by the time he reaches her room, he's convinced himself that he'll find her there. He doesn't. Neither does he find Larry or his mom. A quick glance at the time suggests the real possibility of the two adults being in the cafeteria or something. But it gives him some time to do what he came here for.

Closing the door behind him, Lucas allows himself just a moment of doubt. Only a moment, because even that leaves him breathless with an indefinable fear. He takes a deep, shuddery gulp of air and turns around to face the empty room.

"Peyton? Can you hear me?" He pauses a beat, looking around the room hopefully. Nothing.

He sighs, moving to the blonde in the bed, and hesitates briefly before clasping her hand within his. He hopes she can feel it, wherever she is. He hopes it brings her back to this room.

He seemingly hopes in vain. She doesn't come. Not when he squeezes her hand hard, or says her name firmly. Not when he strokes his hand down her arm, or feathers fingers over her facial features. This time, not even a pinch to her feet has her appearing before him. There's just nothing. And that scares him.

Actually that terrifies him. His horror growing as he stares incomprehensibly at the monitors tracking her. While the steady, calm beeps and undulating lines are relieving in one sense, they scare him in another. There's no change...and no sign of Peyton.

And he has not one clue as to how to find her.

"_Please_, Peyton." He murmurs hoarsely, bowing his head over his hands that still grip her feet through the blanket. "Please. Just come _back_."

But she doesn't.

* * *

**A/N: hmm... **


	7. Cause No One Ever Listened

**A/N: Thank you all so much for the great feedback! I will be responding to reviews (and reading!) over the next few days...life's getting hectic so I have a lot of catching up to do, lol!**

**It's the same old drill: I don't own OTH, the characters, or anything quoted "'within triple marks'", merely how I choose to utilize them! I also did something slightly different at the beginning of this chapter.  
**

**Chapter title comes from a lyric in "Butterfly (She Flies Alone)" by Journey. It's actually the song that inspired this entire fic...the melody, the quality of his voice on some words...**

**Also, there's an important note at the bottom, so please read it. And I hope you enjoy this update! :)

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**Ch7: The Silent Rage, 'Cause No One Ever Listened**

Larry sighs, staring at his unconscious daughter. Sometimes, her utter stillness evokes a terrifying image. Of Anna. Right before he lost her.

He thinks even a tiny twitch of Peyton's finger would ease those thoughts away. She's never, in her entire life, been this still. Even in sleep, she always moved. Until now. And he hates those kinds of thoughts. He's done well keeping them at bay, but Karen's earlier allusions have brought them to mind again. He doesn't know what he'll do if Peyton never moves again.

"I'm sorry."

He takes his despairing eyes from his daughter to land on the weary woman next to him. Her eyes are puffy and red, probably made worse with her constant rubbing. Even as he thinks this, her hand goes up again, trying to rid her face of the evidence of tears.

He regards her solemnly. "You don't have to apologize to me."

"But I do." Karen protests, voice raspy still, even though she'd stopped crying a while ago. "I came here, wanting to...I just thought you'd need someone here with you. I didn't mean to cry all over you. Or make it about me."

"It's okay." When she shakes her head, he sighs. "Karen, I understand. Remember what I told you about Peyton holding us together after Anna died?"

She nods, sending a glance towards the teenaged girl in question.

Larry nods softly, too. "I was a wreck after that happened. I probably did a lot of things I shouldn't, but she gave me a reason to continue. And she forgave any bad things I _did_ do. Lucas will understand, once you explain it to him."

Those words, he hopes, will act as support for a conversation she needs to have with her son. And maybe even as an open invitation to further explain what she thinks she did.

After she'd finally stopped crying that morning, the doctors had come in to check on Peyton. Karen had excused herself to go clean up, and Larry had gotten distracted by the hope of any news regarding his baby girl. There hadn't been anything he hadn't heard before. No reason...perfectly, physically fine...strong vitals...blah, blah, blah. The lack of change was beyond frustrating. To the point where he'd rashly, irrationally, thought he'd prefer _bad_ news, just to hear something different. Then the guilt had him wanting to kick his own ass for even thinking something like that. The only news he wanted to hear was that Peyton had woken up. Nothing else really mattered.

He'd been mentally exhausted by the time the doctors left. A little numb when Karen returned. He just couldn't bring himself to ask, to have to deal with her storm of emotions when he felt this vulnerable. So they'd sat in silence, both lost in their own thoughts and listening to the constant beeping that signified life sustained.

They'd only roused long enough to pick at the food on their plates in the cafeteria, making the most banal small talk before returning upstairs.

That's when they found Lucas, looking like a broken shell of the kid Larry had previously teased about his weapon of choice in protecting Peyton. A kid Larry had then asked to watch out for his daughter, completely certain he would anyway. The kid who carried his daughter out of the school after she'd been shot.

The kid whose mother said she'd blamed him for the death of her fiancé.

Larry hadn't been surprised at all when the blonde teen had taken one look at his mother, mumbled some excuse under his breath, and quickly left. Karen had started crying again, whimpering that Lucas hated her now, allowing herself to rest against Larry in her tears. A sharp contrast to when he'd tried to hold her the other day and she'd been stiff as a board. Larry was practically positive he didn't want to ask what she meant, didn't want to hear her say that if her son hadn't saved his daughter, her fiancé wouldn't have died.

But he was asking anyway.

"I didn't mean it like that." The brunette whispers, eyes pleading as she meets his gaze. "Keith's _gone_, Larry. And a part of me thinks that he wouldn't be if Lucas hadn't been in that school. But the rest of me...the rest of me knows he would've."

"Because he was a good guy." Larry says, carefully watching her eyes for signs of acceptance.

She nods, sniffling a little. "He was. The best. But that was only part of it."

He gives her a few moments to collect herself before prompting, "Part of it?"

"Yeah." She inhales deeply. "When I found out that my _son_ had _ran_ back into a dangerous situation...and then—we lost Keith. I don't...I don't have Keith anymore, and I almost didn't have Lucas, either."

She warbles to a finish, breathing brokenly, looking like she's holding herself together by threads. But he gets it. "I know what you mean. But you have to tell him, too."

She just nods. And looks over at the hospital bed. He follows her gaze to his sleeping daughter. He has to think of her as simply sleeping, because that means she'll wake up. She looks so peaceful...but he can't help hoping she's not, else she stay that way. He's distracted by a gentle weight on his arm, looking down to see Karen's hand.

"You'll have the chance, too, Larry. To tell her what she means. I know it."

He simply nods. And manages to swallow his tears until he hears the soft click of the door signaling Karen's departure. Then he lets them fall.

**0.o o_o o.0**

Karen pushes open the kitchen door, easing into the oddly comforting dimness of her home, letting it surround her for a moment. Just long enough to gather the wherewithal to speak with her son about what had happened that morning.

Flipping the light switch, letting the artificial brightness flood the room, she furrows her brow at what it reveals. There's a mostly full mug of coffee sitting next to a crumb-filled plate. The chair, however, is lying on its side, flush against the cabinets, looking like it had skidded to a rough stop. Another chair is pushed out as well; making her wonder if someone else had come to the house.

Her eyes drift to the baseboard, stained with the chocolate of last night. She cringes at the memory of the sound of shattering ceramic and the absolute silence from her son that followed.

Lightly shaking her head, Karen moves to dump used dishes into the sink, right the chairs, and launch a search of the house for Lucas.

He's not there. And she's afraid he might not come back. But, right now, she's nowhere near ready to go and find him. So she sits at the table, once again in shadows. To wait.

And maybe she cries. Just a little more. For a lot of reasons.

**0.o o_o o.0**

Lucas is perched atop a lunch table in the deserted quad, blankly considering the building in front of him. The very part of the school where he lost an uncle and a friend.

Well, where he nearly lost a friend, since she's still alive. Just in a coma.

He mutely scoffs, hating himself and what he caused. Even though she's in a coma, she was somehow able to communicate with him. But now that's no longer true. And he doesn't know why. He has an idea. He figures it has to do with their argument this morning, when he basically told her he didn't care what happened to her.

He _does_ care. Of course he does. But he can't tell her that now. He looked everywhere he could think of, tried many different tricks, but nothing had the green-eyed blonde popping up in front of him and spouting things he needs to hear her say. Instead, there's only a deafening silence. He can't even _feel_ her anymore. He always used to be able to, even when he pretended that he couldn't.

He's been sitting on that table practically all evening, reveling in the uninterrupted time to try and think it through. He has two theories, both equally unsatisfying, but one more bearable than the other. It can mean that something went terribly wrong and she's no longer on this earth in the same way she was before. Or that he has now joined the ranks of those who cannot see, hear, nor touch her. While he hates the latter option, at least it gives him hope. That maybe he can fix it, making it possible to once again have her in his life until she_ really_ wakes up. The former option isn't one he chooses to think about, only letting it briefly settle in his mind before discarding it.

_That_ option isn't true. It can't be, since she's still alive. And as long as he remembers that, he'll be able to function.

A faint movement from the corner of his eye causes his head to whip around, eyes searching. He deflates a little when it proves to not be Peyton, but Mouth instead. He sighs, sending a nod to his friend, who offers a timid smile back.

"Hey, Luke."

"Hey, Mouth."

He eases himself down beside Lucas, seeming like he wants to say something but doesn't know how. Lucas isn't really in the mood for company, but he doesn't want to be rude to one of best friends. So he waits for whatever it is his friend wants to say. He just hopes it comes soon, because he really wants to be alone right now. He needs to come up with a plan for his MIA Peyton situation.

"I'm sorry. For making you upset at Keith's wake."

It's offered simply, in a tone that reflects no real apology. Lucas feels himself bristle, recalling the reason for his anger at Mouth a few days ago. At the utter gall it took for the guy to mention Jimmy's funeral in _his_ home, at a gathering to mourn _his_ uncle, the uncle _Jimmy_ took away.

"But not sorry for what you meant to ask." Lucas bites out, letting the bitterness through as he looks at the boy next to him.

Mouth shifts uncomfortably, staring down at his hands. He shrugs before meeting Luke's eyes. "He was our friend, Luke."

"Right up to the point when he killed my uncle."

Mouth flinches slightly, but doesn't break eye contact. "I know. But—"

"There aren't any buts. Not for that. Not ever." Lucas' voice is cold and hard-edged, his anger and conviction clear. Clear enough to have Mouth averting his eyes to his shoes, watching his fingers fiddle with the lacing.

He looks so young doing so, like a kid who still has the shine of innocence, that Lucas reins his anger in. He doesn't really have the energy for another heated encounter. Nor does he want to have another thing laid on his shoulders to later atone for.

"Look, Mouth...I just don't want to hear it right now. Okay?"

The other boy looks back up, eyes haunted. "Do you remember when we were all twelve? And we took that oath about always looking out for each other, after Junk nearly fell off the pier? You and Jimmy pulled him back over."

Lucas tightens his mouth and narrows his eyes as the memory unfolds. A group of boys, emotions running on adrenaline and scared half out of their wits, promising that no matter what, they'd have each others' backs. It's a memory now tainted, because of Jimmy. And what he did. And he can't help resenting Mouth for bringing it up now, with no real purpose that Luke can see.

Almost as if he said that aloud, Mouth continues, "Jimmy was my best friend. And I didn't notice when it got this bad. I stopped having his back." He chokes up at the end, breathing shallowly.

Looking over and seeing the tears that start forming in his friend's eyes, Lucas sighs, dropping his own head. After that, he can't even muster up a kernel of anger towards Mouth. It's just not worth it.

It's a little surprising for Lucas to learn that someone else is carrying around that same guilt regarding Jimmy. But he feels it's different, too. With him, most of that guilt is aimed at what Jimmy's actions cost him, his mom...and his uncle. For Mouth, it can't possibly be rooted in that same ground.

"Why?" He didn't even know he was going to say anything when he looked over at his friend. But now his curiosity is lit.

Mouth gives a half-hearted shrug and shakes his head. "I don't know. It just kind of happened. I mean, I started making new friends, and Jimmy didn't want to do anything anymore..."

"Yeah."

That's true for the most part. Lucas remembers having so much to deal with after joining the basketball team: getting to know Nathan, dating Brooke, messing things up with Peyton, trying to take down Dan. He had a lot of drama happen since last year, and his old friends kind of got lost in the shuffle. Except those that forged their own bonds in his newly acquired social group.

But that still doesn't excuse what Jimmy did. Or what Mouth is now asking of him.

"Jim's funer—"

"No." The response is almost robotic, stated calmly without even a hint of emotion behind it.

Mouth looks at him desperately, "But—"

"_No_." This time it's firmer, harder. Colder.

Mouth falls silent, looking at Lucas with a broken expression before simply sliding off the table. A lowly murmured _we promised_ is all Lucas hears as the other boy walks away. Groaning softly, he studies the building in front of him with a little more intensity, wishing mightily that everything in that hallway had happened differently. Since it didn't, since he can't do anything about it now, Lucas pushes himself off the table and turns his back on the school, walking away.

He just needs to find Peyton.

**0.o o_o o.0**

It's the silence she notices first. The only thing audible is the monotonous, continuous beeping. Cautiously lowering her hands from her ears, she pries open her eyes and looks around in confusion. It's dark. And empty, save for the unconscious girl in the hospital bed.

There's no Larry, no Karen. Only her and herself.

Clasping her hands together, she inhales deeply, holding her breath a little and shutting her eyes, turning in the direction of the clock. _One, two, three...open._

Holy crap. This time, she hasn't lost mere minutes, or even an hour or so. No, she lost the _entire_ day. If it's still the same day. And she remembers nothing from it, either. It's just blank.

It's terrifying that she can't explain it. That she doesn't know the cause. Why or how it happens. Only that it does. There's a small part of her that's relieved, though. It couldn't have happened at a better time, in her opinion. She wasn't ready to face Karen's or her dad's emotions. Not when hers were still so muddled from her blow-up with Lucas.

Peyton grimaces at the last thought. She still doesn't really want to think about it, so she focuses on another question that was raised earlier.

She turns her gaze to the still-open door of her hospital room, tilting her head and considering the doorway. Before she blanked out, she'd been unable to walk through it. Maybe because she was so frantic? Biting her lip, Peyton moves confidently forward, intending to just step outside the door.

She can't.

Frowning, she takes a step back. "What the hell?" Concentrating this time, she makes another attempt. That fails.

She moves to absently seat herself in a chair by the bed, mind racing. She'd been hoping her inability to leave had something to do with the frenetic nature of her earlier emotions. She's much calmer now, but she still can't leave that room by that door. Though she had never tried to before now, anyway.

Well, there are other ways to leave a room when you're basically insubstantial. A tiny smirk dances around her mouth at her cynical quip. Settling further into her chair, she brings to mind the cemetery, with it's oddly peaceful tranquility and grassy paths.

But she's _still_ there, in that damn room. Worried now, she stares at her hands in her lap, twisting her fingers together as she thinks. Wondering what changed since she popped up in Lucas' house. It was so easy to do it then. And, as far as she's aware, nothing is different with her. She tries again, focusing on the details and feelings that come with a trip to her mom's headstone. Nothing.

Rising, Peyton walks over to the hospital bed and studies 'her' serene expression. Then the monitors, with their incessant noise. Nothing seems different there, either. Sighing, she leans against the bed, closing her eyes and letting out the barest whisper, "I just want to see my _mom_."

She jerks to her feet at the sensation of falling, eyes flying open. Freezing, she takes in her surroundings. The quiet of the cemetery at night, her mom's headstone in all its familiarity. She's bewildered. But she also doesn't care, because she's where she wants to be.

Dropping cross legged in front of her mom's headstone, Peyton looses a long, drawn out huff of breath, letting herself release the tension from earlier. "Hi mom. It's me...again." She smiles faintly, sardonically. "But I guess you know that. I just...I don't know what to do. Things aren't _normal_, in any sense of the word, right now. And I'm...I'm scared, mom."

Falling silent, she shifts, pulling her legs up to her chest and hugging her knees close. She lowers her forehead to her knees with a tiny whimper, the urge to cry overwhelming. She's not sure how long she holds that position, battling back dry sobs, trying to focus on the sound caused by the light breeze swirling around the trees and grass. Finally raising her head, Peyton props her chin on the spot where her forehead had previously been, staring at the engraved name in front of her. "Momma? Is there music in heaven?"

She pauses, a little startled to hear her voice crack on the question. Surprised at the question itself, since she hadn't realized, hadn't recognized, that she was actually losing faith that she'd wake up.

"Daddy thinks I'm a fighter...but I don't feel like one. I feel like it's just too _hard _sometimes. I mean, Ellie told me I got the surviving part down, which I do, but—I sometimes feel like that's all I can handle. And lately, I'm not even doing that much anymore. Instead, I'm like..._this_."

Downtrodden, frustrated, Peyton falls silent, wishing that her mom could really talk to her about this. Or that it wasn't like this at all. That she was just her again, going through life with all it's problems and joys. Instead of stuck in an in-between. And not really knowing why. Or how to get out of it.

"I'm trying to be hopeful, here. You know? Especially for Dad...he's not ready to be alone yet." She gives a half-laugh, "And who would take care of Brooke? You remember how she was...she still is. She can't do it by herself." She smiles a little, thinking about her best friend. She really does miss her.

"And Lucas." This part is said so softly, it's almost not strong enough to pierce the silence. Peyton brings her knuckle to rub at an eye, making a face of self-deprecation. "I know, I know. I'm still mad and hurt by this morning...I think it was this morning? Anyway, not the point. The point is, I care about what happens to him. I don't like seeing him like this. And, he's probably not ready to permanently lose another person from his life...so I should wake up from that stupid coma. Right?"

She hates feeling this way. But she really is losing hope. She doesn't understand why this happening to her or what the point of it all is supposed to be. She just wants something to _happen_, whether it means waking up or not.

If she's honest, both options kind of scare her, in their own ways. But she would really rather be alive, though.

Peyton sighs, returning to her original topic, "I hope there is music there. The good kind, not the...weird, harpy...stuff, that people always assume. But, like, _bands_." She has to grin at the thought that enters her mind, "Oh! hey, you like to sing...I'm not musical, but whatever...and Ellie's a good writer... if the music sucks, we could probably just do our own. what'cha think?"

Peyton rolls her own eyes at her own notion. It's kind of depressing. She really should try to be more optimistic sometimes.

Her musings are interrupted by an unexpected rustling sound. A gasp escapes and she straightens her back at the sight of Dan Scott heading towards Keith's headstone. He's striding at a brisk pace, glaring around at his surroundings almost frantically. She scans the area as well, not seeing anything.

"'It's not gonna work you know.'"

Her eyes widen in startled confusion, glancing around to try to see who he might be talking to. There's _no way_ he can see her...can he?

"'I'm not gonna carry this around with me. I did what I did, and it's done!'" He's still glaring, whipping his head to look around him. His gaze basically skips right over her.

Peyton swiftly climbs to her feet, approaching Dan, questioning, "Who are you talking to?"

She's not really surprised when there's no answer. But she's still completely mystified.

His tone goes from an angry half-shout, to a seething, forcefully loud whisper. "'So you come around now, you..._whiny_ ghost...you won't scare me!'"

Peyton feels her mouth drop open, bringing a hand to her chest at the implication of someone else being there. Someone Dan can see, but she can't. Maybe someone in the same situation as hers.

"'As a matter of fact, tonight I'm gonna sleep like a baby,'" Dan continues his ranting, pacing in front of his brother's headstone. But Peyton's more focused on trying to see if someone else really is there...or if Dan just cracked. "'You wanna know why? Because _you_ started this war!'"

She flinches when his voice raises again, startling at the words. He focuses straight at Keith's stone this time, "'I just finished it! I just _finished_ it.'"

There's one last glare before he spits on the ground in front of his brother and stalks off almost as quickly as he came.

Peyton's mind is spinning. She has no idea how to take what just happened. Or even which part to focus on first; the chance there's someone else there, the possibility of it being Keith, or the meaning behind what Dan said.

She just needs to find Lucas. He's her person to talk to about this kind of stuff.

As soon as she thinks of him, she has to catch herself from stumbling, blinking her eyes rapidly in an attempt to steady herself. It's so unexpected she can't help but exclaim, "What the hell?"

At the sound of her voice, the blonde boy sitting on the bleachers in front of her jerks his head up. "_Peyton_..."

The breathless way he says her name has air catching in her throat. But she ignores that. "Something weird just happened at the cemetery."

He just stares at her. She stares right back. There are a lot of emotions swirling in the space between them; she has no clue what to do with them. And, apparently, neither does Lucas.

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**A/N: Okay, before anyone asks, I don't plan on LP finding out what Dan did...at all, but especially via her situation. I feel like that would be a little too "campy", and that there's enough going on without Dan stuff :) I just liked that scene, and decided to use it as a catalyst for LP and for future possibilities! On that topic, this chapter felt more transitional than anything...so I'm extra sorry it took longer to post! :)**

**Let me know what you're thinking about this...I'd love to hear it!  
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	8. I Am Damaged At Best

**A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks for the great reviews! Okay, so I decided Wednesdays are going to be my target date, just so you know! I usually get a lighter work day...gives me some time to finish and proof the chapter :)**

**As always, I don't own OTH, the characters, or anything quoted "'like this'". I can only claim the journey they travel and the mistakes found upon it! So enjoy, lol!  
**

**Chapter title comes from a lyric in "Broken" by Lifehouse.

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**Ch8: I Am Damaged At Best, Like You've Already Figured Out**

Their staring contest lasts a few more excruciating minutes, before Lucas snaps out of the daze he seems to be in. He breaks the silence, "Thank god. Peyton, I'm sor—"

She interrupts, wanting to just tell him what happened and not rehash their earlier argument. "Dan was at the cemetery, and he was yelling at someone I couldn't see."

He pauses, furrowing his brow. Standing, he shoves his hands into his pockets. "This morning, I—"

"Did you hear me? Dan—"

"Will you stop?" Lucas asks, clearly aggravated.

Peyton blinks, then scowls at him. What is his problem, anyway? She doesn't want to talk about their argument, doesn't he understand that? She just wants to have a nice conversation about the weirdness that happened a few moments before, while she was trying to talk to her mom.

He frowns too, taking a step towards her. "Just _let_ me apologize, okay?"

"Look, whatever...I don't really care."

"Well _I_ do." He stresses earnestly, removing his hands and raising them to her. Only to stop right before they'd touch her...if she was really there. They both just kind of stare at the space between his hand and her arm, until he finally drops them and she takes a step back.

She looks at his face in time to see his expression fall, along with his shoulders. "I'm an ass. I _do_ care about you, and what's happening. I just took everything else out on you, and I'm sorry for that."

She sighs, meeting his eyes. The look in them makes her feel better. Because she can tell he means it.

But her continued silence seems to make him a little nervous. "I—I did it because, I think, I was overwhelmed with it all. And I trust you, you know? To understand that. That I lashed out because I felt like I _could_ with you. I just hope you forgive me."

Her head starts to nod, almost of it's own accord, while her mind turns a little mushy. What he just told her is a big deal. And she can't help feeling pleased and giddy by it, even as she tells herself it's rooted in friendship and nothing more. It's still an amazing feeling.

"Okay, you're starting to make me nervous." Lucas tells her, attempting to smile and shifting his feet a little.

She smiles, "Sorry. I was just...processing."

When he gives her a confused look, she shrugs, moving to gingerly test the bleacher. It's solid. He takes the seat next to her, turning so he's facing her. "Are you almost done?"

She chuckles at his wry tone, nodding. "I get it, Luke, I do. I mean, I was hurt, but...but I know it's hard. When my mom died...I lashed out from the bitterness, too."

He nods as well. "Yeah. So...is that just _understanding_, or is it forgiveness..."

As he trails off, she rolls her eyes. "It's both. Okay?"

"Okay." He smiles at her, "Thank you."

She smiles back. When they lapse into silence again, it doesn't feel so weighted. The space between them no longer feels as vast, so she lets herself revel in it.

Lucas squints at her, breaking into her moment. "Hey, what'd you say about the cemetery?"

"Oh." She makes a face, gesturing weakly with one hand. "It was really weird. I was talking to my mom—"

"When? Because I looked there, and I couldn't find you."

She's a little startled. "You looked for me?"

"Of course I did." He's slightly impatient. "I looked for you all day."

"_Yeeaahh_... I'll explain that later, just listen to this first."

She waits for a confirmation in the form of a head tilt from him before continuing, "I was talking to my mom, when I look up to see Dan. And he's wandering around, looking really...mad. Or frantic. Anyway, he starts yelling stuff, acting like someone else is there."

Lucas' lips part a little, as he regards her seriously. "Who?"

"I'm not sure." Peyton shrugs, biting her lip. Reluctant to bring this part up. "I thought...well, towards the end, he kind of kept aiming his words at Keith's grave."

She watches his eyes widen, the color appearing black in the glow from the lights rimming the Rivercourt. "What'd he say?"

"Something about Keith starting something and Dan finishing it. I didn't understand."

Lucas looks confused too, taking a moment to stare intently into the night. She remains quiet, giving him the time to churn the information in his mind. And trying to make sense of it herself. Especially the part where Dan focused his conversation at a _whiny ghost_ only he could see. Mostly, she's curious to know if it was an actual _ghost_, or another person who was stuck between living and not. Or neither.

"I'm not sure I get it, either." Lucas says slowly, bending forward to lean his chin on clasped hands. "Started what? Finished what?"

Peyton shrugs. "I want to know who he was talking to. Do you think there are other people going through _this_?" She gestures to herself.

"I dunno. Maybe." He straightens, looking at her. "You didn't see anyone?"

"Nope."

"Well, maybe Dan just went a little crazy. It's entirely possible."

She gives a little scoff and rolls her eyes. "Or there really are such things as ghosts, and all these years I've been kind of mocking that idea."

"Peyton Sawyer, badass." He teases with a small chuckle. "Who knows. When I was a kid, I always thought there was more out there beyond the world."

"Well, yeah, it's called _space_." At the exasperated look he sends her, she can't help the wide grin that stretches across her face.

He shakes his head, but she can see the small smile he's trying to suppress. She feels better for having lightened the moment, no matter how lame.

Lucas sighs deeply, turning serious, "I talked to Mouth today."

"And?" She prompts when he fails to elaborate.

"And he cried about Jimmy. Mentioned the funeral. Brought up this promise we all made as kids to be there for each other." He frowns, narrowing his eyes. "I just...I couldn't believe he'd bring that up. Not after _this_."

She tilts her head, studying this boy beside her. This boy who sees so much deeper than most people; able to reach a hurting heart in others, while never looking that far into his own. Even with so sparse an explanation, Peyton understands it's more than the black and white Luke believes it is. It's a hundred shades of grey.

"A promise to be there? All of you?"

He just furrows his eyebrows in her direction, obviously not sure what she means.

Peyton sighs, nervously twisting her hands together in her lap. "So what about Mouth?"

"What?" He turns even more, straddling the bench to look at her directly. "What about him?"

"Isn't Mouth your friend? Doesn't he need someone to have _his_ back?"

He looks startled. She can practically see his mind working, watching the different emotions flash in his expressions. His eyes flicker towards her, before he ducks his head, contemplating the bench in front of him. "I _can't_ do what he's asking. Go to that funeral and...mourn the guy who killed Keith."

"He was just a scared kid, Luke. It's _okay_ to hate what he did, and you're allowed to be _mad_ at him. But don't punish Jimmy's people for what _he_ did."

His head shoots up, expression incredulous. She rushes on, "I mean, what about his mom? I bet _no one_ is going to attend his service because of this, but she shouldn't have to stand there alone. She deserves to grieve, and she deserves to have support in that grief. Like Karen did the other day. Or my dad, when he lost my mom."

Lucas shakes his head jerkily, opening and closing his mouth, trying to find words. She waits, knowing he needs to work it out for himself. Yes, Jimmy's people need to grieve...and that includes all his childhood friends who are going to have to reconcile the boy they thought they knew with the one who did something they'd never imagined him capable of.

"I...just don't know." He finally manages to mutter, looking at her with hollow eyes.

She smiles gently, "That's _okay_. Just don't close yourself off to the people who're still here."

"I didn't close myself off to you." His tone is defensive, yet strangely pleading.

She can't really describe it, but it makes her heart jump in her chest. A reaction that tears through her, knowing and hating that it's not allowed to happen. She's not supposed to be this affected by Lucas, not when he belongs with her best friend. It literally hurts to know that, and to feel the way she does about him.

So she tries to play it off. "I'm not all the way _here_, though." She gives him what she hopes is a teasing grin, praying he didn't hear the bitter undertone to the statement.

Apparently the universe isn't listening. His expression morphing into a fierce scowl as he flattens his palms on the bench and leans his weight forward, putting his face mere inches from hers. She instinctively draws back, wary.

"Peyton," he enunciates slowly, close enough that she can see his eyes flashing with temper. "_Why_ do you insist on joking about that? I don't like it. Especially when I can tell it scares you."

She hates that she loves he can see that. She also hates that he can see that. "Because."

He just narrows his eyes at her, making her fidget. Finally, after a moment of uncomfortable silence, she huffs, "Because if I don't joke about it, I'll want to cry about it! And I can't do that! Not figuratively and not literally."

Lucas sighs, retreating from her personal space a little. "But you can't pretend it away, either, Peyton. You have to deal with it. Maybe that's how you're supposed to reconnect and wake up. You can't _close yourself off_ from really being _here_, just because you don't want to face it."

She hates his ability to turn her own words on her. And that he never wants to deal with his own things, either. It's those shades of grey again. "Really? Like _you_ deal with things? Have you talked to your mom today?"

"That's not the same."

"Isn't it?" She challenges, shifting to straddle the bench as well and crossing her arms over her chest.

He clenches his jaw and runs his hand over his head. "Fine." He growls. "I haven't talked to her yet. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Not really, no." She bites back. His attitude pissing her off a little. "I _want_ to hear that you talked to her, and dealt with whatever made you act like that this morning!" There's a pause, before she mumbles waspishly, "If it _was_ this morning."

"It was." He latches onto her last sentence quickly. "And you said you'd explain that."

She frowns, "Don't change the subject, Luke."

"Answer the question, Peyton." He mimics her tone, making a face that causes her frown to deepen and her gaze to narrow into a glare. He merely glares back, raising his eyebrow in a challenge.

She sighs out a soundless curse and shrugs carelessly. "I blanked out, is all. I was mad at you, sitting there talking to my other self, and my dad comes in. With your mom. They both kind of got emotional and I freaked out. The next time I open my eyes, I'm alone again. That happened…I don't know, maybe an hour ago?"

"You blanked out for the _entire_ day? No wonder I couldn't find you. I thought…" She winces when he trails off. He nods slightly at her reaction, "Exactly. I spent this afternoon looking for you and _freaking out_, myself. How'd it happen?"

"I still don't know. This one didn't really come when I was bored, like before. I was pretty much an emotional mess, you know? And it was the whole day, instead of a few minutes. I don't think it was anything I did that caused it."

They both take pause at those words. Peyton's not sure what he's thinking, but she figures the how and why of her blanking out are the least of their worries. And, damn it, she didn't mean to let him distract her from talking about his issues.

"Your mom told my dad that she told _you_ it was your fault about Keith." She blurts out, studying his face for a reaction.

His eyes widen, his mouth moving without forming words, and his hands gesture absently in the space between them before settling once again on the bench. "She did. She said if I hadn't gone into that school—"

"He would have gone in, anyway."

"I know." He nods firmly at her disbelieving look. "I _do_ know. Haley said that's the person he is—was. You told me that too, remember?"

Biting her lip, she cautiously probes, "So why do you sound like you agree with her?"

"It's my fault he died." Lucas turns beseeching eyes onto her.

It's like she's walking a minefield here, not sure where to go or what step might set off something dangerous. She's floundering, confused how he can _know_ Keith would have done something regardless of Lucas' involvement, yet still place the blame for the man's actions on himself.

Maybe something in her expression gives her thoughts away, because he clarifies, "I don't agree with her about me going back into school being the reason. But...Jim and I grew up together, you know? Then last year...he drifted away... I never noticed. Until the time capsule, but by then it was too late to fix it."

"Luke..." She breathes out, understanding dawning. Leaning forward, "You can't blame yourself for another person's actions. You're _not_ responsible for what someone _chooses_ to do."

He tilts his head back for a moment, sighing into the night. Bringing his eyes back to hers, he murmurs, "Maybe I could have stopped _all_ of it. If I'd just _noticed_."

"Or maybe not." Peyton counters, "Or maybe that's not the point. People can't go back in time and fix every mistake, they can't undo what they've lived. You shouldn't feel guilty about a moment, or a series of moments, you didn't pay attention to. Life's full of those, and you don't know which one was the spark that lit the fuse. So how do you think you could've known the one to notice?"

She meets his eyes fully, the floodlights offering just enough illumination to see the intensity of his gaze as he stares at her in a contemplative silence. Finally, a tiny pull at the corner of his mouth and an almost unnoticeable nod gives her an answer before he even speaks. "I couldn't have." He offers her a hesitant smile, "You learn that the hard way?"

"It didn't really sink in until last year." She confides wryly. "My mom ran the light on her way to pick me up. One wrong moment. I always thought—I don't know, that maybe if I'd gone to play with a friend that day, or if I hadn't made a big deal about wanting to get home right away to see my dad, or if she hadn't been delayed trying to find me a new sketchpad 'cause I dropped mine in Brooke's pool. If I hadn't dropped my sketchpad in the first place. Or decided to bring it to Brooke's house. Or went to her house that day..."

"Yeah. I get it." He sighs, slumping his posture a little. His eyes drop to his clasped hands in front of him. Following his gaze, she reaches to hover her hand right above his. She can't touch him in comfort, but she wants him to know that she's there. She hopes it helps, at least a little.

He studies their hands for a moment, raising his head again. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"Being my friend."

She smiles and nods her head softly. "Yeah. Just...talk to your mom, okay? Deal with something you _can_ change."

Lucas purses his lips, raising his eyebrow at her. "You, too. work on pulling yourself together. And whatever you do, stay far away from any white lights."

"Yeah, you say that _now_." She makes a face at him, chuckling at him when he tilts his head in confusion. "Then next thing I know, it's a "'run to the light, Carole-Ann!'" type of thing."

He stares at her incredulously. "You have _got_ to get better taste in movies. Poltergeist? Jeez."

"Says the guy who recognized the quote!" She shoots back teasingly. "Besides, this whole thing is practically straight out of some movie anyway. Think about it, from what I saw happen tonight, there could be _dozens_ of people going through what I am."

"You mean because Dan was acting crazy?"

She shrugs sheepishly, "Well, yeah. Dude, what else would have him going around yelling at air?"

"Ever thought it might be because he lost his mind?" Lucas snarks dryly.

"Maybe." she concedes. "Or he could be doing exactly what you're doing, if someone were to see _you _right now."

He pokes his tongue out her briefly before squinting thoughtfully. "You said...it seemed like he might have been talking to Keith?"

"That was just the impression I got. I mean, he never said a name or anything. Just...the last points were directed towards Keith's headstone, so I figured..."

He nods, absently rubbing under one eye. "Do you really think that's possible? That Keith's here like that?"

"I dunno. I never thought it'd be possible for me to be here like this."

"I'm not sure I really believe in the whole ghost thing." At her expression, he grins. "_You're_ not a ghost, just in a coma. Two totally different scenarios, girlie." He falls silent, seeming to consider something. "Maybe Dan just needed to talk to him and decided to do it at the cemetery. The same way you talk to your mom."

She sighs. "Okay. Maybe. But what did he mean?"

"Maybe nothing." Lucas shrugs.

"But...I _always_ mean something, when I talk to my mom." She tells him, a little worried about his cavalier manner.

He's quiet for a moment, before running his hand over his face with a barely discernible groan. "I—I'm confused about what he thinks Keith started. And how he finished it. It's driving me crazy, 'cause all I can think, is about this...one-up war they've been having."

"What are you talking about?"

"Remember the dealership fire?"

She scowls. "Yeah. And I remember the choking-thing afterwards, too."

He waves her words away, continuing, "Well, Dan was convinced Keith was behind it. He even tried to get him arrested for it." Lucas turns to gaze unseeing into the darkness. "He blamed Keith, and kept saying that he'd get even."

"By doing what?"

"Making his life miserable." Lucas retorts, bringing his eyes back to hers. "God, Peyton. That man tried all sorts of things to bring Keith down, but he wouldn't let him, you know?"

Peyton nods, taking a moment to think about where Luke might be going with this. "Okay. So that's the start...what was the finish...? And how did _Dan_ do it?"

"That's what I don't understand." He huffs out a sigh, pulling his leg over the bleacher so he can stand. He starts pacing slowly in front of her. "It's obvious what the finish is." It's a bitter choke that has Peyton wishing she could touch him or bring any kind of comfort whatsoever. "But Jimmy..."

"So maybe Dan's playing the self-blame game, too." She suggests quickly, not wanting him to dwell on his last thought again.

"For _what_?" He halts right in front of her, bringing his arms to cross his chest. "Being a major ass to Keith his whole life?"

"Oh!" Peyton's hand fly up as a thought pops into mind. She shifts so she's no longer straddling the bench and looks up at Lucas. "Or being the _Mayor_, and not stopping Keith from going in that day. The day that ultimately finished everything between them."

"He should have. That's his job." Lucas states bitterly. "Not only that, but his _brother_. I tried stopping mine from going in there."

Peyton stands, moving a little closer to the hurting boy. "Yeah. But they didn't have the relationship you and Nate do. Maybe that's a reason he could be blaming himself, you know? For not being a better brother to Keith when he had the chance."

Lucas stares at her pensively. "Is it wrong that I don't care if he blames himself? Even if he technically didn't cause Keith's death?"

"It's not wrong to feel how you feel. As long as you don't let it drag you down, okay?"

When he nods, she smiles. Stepping out of his personal space, she leans her head back, looking at the stars shining in the inky darkness. She ruefully admonishes herself, having forgotten that while she doesn't need sleep, he does.

"It's getting late, Luke. You should probably head home. Sleep off this day, 'cause it sounds like it sucked."

He scoffs out a laugh. "Yeah, it did. A _lot_."

She laughs. "So, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Definitely." He goes to turn away, but hesitates. "Will you come with me? Stay?"

Peyton raises her eyebrows, regarding him questioningly.

He sends her a sheepish smile. "It's just...I'll feel better having you where I can see you, so I don't worry."

Her heart stutters in her chest, but she tamps down the rush of emotion. They're just friends. And she really needs to do a better job at remembering that. "Okay. But just until you fall asleep." She grins facetiously. "You're not as interesting to watch while you're unconscious as I apparently am."

"Haha." He deadpans, starting in the direction of his house. "You're hilarious."

"Oh, I know!" She makes a face and widens her eyes exaggeratedly, laughing when he rolls his.

They stroll along the quiet streets, neither really talking. Peyton's trying not to focus on the boy next to her, trying not to gauge how scrambled his emotions must be. She's obviously failing. But she's still a little worried; he has so much on his mind, and he's stubborn enough to try to do everything on his own. She just doesn't want it all to break his already fragile hold on peace. He needs it.

"Peyton?" He interrupts the silence when they get to the sidewalk in front of his house. "I'll think about it."

She's slightly baffled. "Think about what?"

"The funeral. For Mouth...and Mrs. Edwards."

She merely smiles to herself, following him into his room. That might just be a step towards the healing he so desperately needs.

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**A/N: As I'm sure you've noticed, this update was almost ENTIRELY dialogue! Please let me know what you think! If it read/sounded like an actual conversation...or not. I didn't want it to sound TOO formal or speech-like, but I also hope it wasn't too casual, either. Also, in a normal conversation, the topics jump around...were the shifts easy to follow? Make sense? Tried too hard? lol. Anything you can point out, please do so! I appreciate it! :)  
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	9. With A Song To Help You Believe It

**A/N: Ha, I think I jinxed myself. Because my muse decided to take a vacation...so instead of _finishing_ by Wed., I only had 2 pages started! But it came back with a vengeance, to spawn this monster of an update! I could have separated it, but I liked it this way. So you guys get a two-for-one that hopefully makes up for the delay! :) Enjoy it...it'll probably never happen again, lol! **

**Lexie: that bet I mentioned regarding the eleventh-hour? I kind of won that one! ;P haha!  
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**I don't own OTH or it's characters. Nor do I own the "'quotes like this'", only the journey I take them through and the mistakes you find, as it's not beta'd.**

**Chapter title comes from a lyric in "To Be Alive Again" by Journey.

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**Ch9: With A Song (To Help You Believe It)**

"Testing, one, two, three..." Peyton drawls sardonically, practically flinging herself into a chair by her hospital bed, next to her dad. Larry was settling into his chair with the morning newspaper and a cup of coffee.

It was odd. Yesterday, when she'd wanted to leave the hospital room, she couldn't...not even through the freakin' door. Not until she had wanted and thought of her mom. She'd brushed it off when it happened, but after leaving Lucas' house and spending the night watching herself remain in a coma, Peyton decided to explore this limbo she found herself in. What she discovered, is that doors and windows were off limits. As were any places: like bedrooms, the bridge, the cemetery, the Rivercourt...

People seemed to be key. She'd been able to blink in and out to check on Lucas before he woke up this morning. She'd wanted her mom, and appeared at the cemetery before returning to herself. Trying her theory on her dad had made her laugh though...she'd popped up next to him in the hallway right outside her hospital room. She'd walked with him through the door, but had been unable to take a single step backwards to exit the doorway once inside. She'd slammed up against something solid that didn't truly exist. But when her dad stepped out again, she'd been able to follow. So she apparently was stuck by 'her' side, within those four walls, unless she was with whomever she'd _wanted_ herself to.

Leaning forward to address her other self, she muses, "You know, what good is having this ability to just _think_ yourself with someone, if it can't work on _really _important people?"

Like Dave Grohl. Or _any_ of the other Foo Fighters. She'd tried all morning...with absolutely no luck.

Laughing lightly at herself, Peyton takes a peek at her dad. He's immersed in his reading, tired eyes devouring the random stories of life in Tree Hill. She makes a face when she spies a brief blurb about the _female shooting victim who remains in a coma_. Oh joy. Just what her dad _doesn't_ need to read about at the moment. And what she doesn't want to think about, either.

Settling back in her chair, she eyes the clock, wondering if it's too early to go visiting. Probably. But she just wants to get out of the hospital room...it's depressing to be in there.

She drops her head back on the chair, saying aloud, "Where shall I go, Peyton Elizabeth? Luke's probably still asleep. I don't even want to _think _about what Naley are up to." She chuckles and makes a face at the thought. "And Brooke's—"

She cuts herself off mid-sentence, turning to her dad with a grin, before deflating at the recollection he can't interact with her. Well, that just ruined her lighthearted mood. Damn it. Sighing, Peyton stands, pacing to the middle of the room with one eye still on the clock. The minute hand had moved one whole millimeter since the last time she looked at it. Impatiently running a hand through her hair, she decides to just go for it; the worst thing that could happen would be for her to sit around somewhere else just as bored as she is now. And she really misses her best friend.

It takes a second for Peyton to shake off the disorientation, a grin spreading over her mouth at her surroundings. She's _home_, in her own room, with her own things. An uncharacteristic squeal of happiness escapes as she bounds over to her records, forgetting about limitations for a moment. Just until her hand passes through her albums like air, causing her to crash back down to reality again.

She's gotten a little spoiled being able to talk to Lucas. And she really dislikes these constant reminders about her situation...it's not like she _doesn't_ know about it. Before she can really dwell on the issue, the bathroom door opens, startling her.

For two reasons. One, she hadn't been expecting it. Two, it was way too early for Brooke to be awake, much less out of the shower and dressed. But she smiles at the sight of the cheerful brunette, content to just tag along and see what her best friend has planned for her day. It'd be nice to pretend they were spending the day together.

"Brooke? Are you in here?" Both girls turn towards the bedroom door in time to see Haley enter with a hesitant smile. She gives a half-wave. "Hey."

"Haley." Brooke breathes out, moving to wrap her arms around the shorter girl.

She returns the hug, pulling away with a smile. "It's good to see you, too, Brooke."

"How're you holding up, Tutor-girl? I haven't seen you around all that much."

"Yeah." Haley grimaces slightly, gesturing with her hands. "Sorry about that. Nathan and I...we're just spending a lot of time together, you know?"

While she's talking, Peyton takes a moment to test her bed with her hand, oddly surprised to find it solid enough to sit on. She pulls her legs up, crossing them in front of her and watches the interaction between the other two.

She smiles when Brooke does, the brunette waving her hand at Haley's earlier words. "Good for you. After everything...well, you need that. Both of you." She grins, reaching over to grab something off the desk and give it to Haley. "Here."

"'What is this?'" Haley stares at her hand, confused. Peyton can just make out the key sitting on her palm.

"'It's my door key.'" Brooke shrugs. "'Actually it's your door key.'"

Haley offers it back, "'Brooke...it's your place.'"

"'Nah." the brunette says airily. "'It's always been your place.' And Nathan's. 'I was just keeping it warm 'til you came to your senses.'"

"Aww, Brookie, that's really, really sweet." Peyton murmurs, feeling touched at the gesture on her best friend's part.

She can tell Haley is as well, especially when she throws her arms around Brooke again. "Thank you. That—that really means a lot to me." She pulls back with a small laugh. "But what about you?"

Brooke's face falls a little, before she rallies and makes an attempt at a smile. "I'm going to stay here for a while. Just until Peyton comes home."

"You can stay after that, too, Doofus." Peyton pointlessly interjects, knowing neither one can hear her.

"Okay." Haley gives Brooke an odd look at the phrasing of that sentence. But she kind of glosses over that. "How are _you_ holding up? With the Peyton thing?"

Peyton quirks her eyebrow, wanting to know the answer to that question, too. Brooke sighs. "It's hard, you know? To see her like that. I went yesterday, and just talked about things we've done, and stories about us as kids. I miss her. And I'm scared that she won't—"

When her best friend chokes up, Peyton has to bite her lip to keep it from trembling. She watches, feeling helpless once again at her inability to comfort her friend. But she's relieved that Haley's there to do it, to take the brunette in her arms and murmur words of empathy.

Brooke pulls herself together pretty quickly, dashing her hand under her eyes and wiping away all traces of tears. She gives a tremulous smile to Haley, "I'm not thinking that way, though. Only good thoughts!"

Haley gives a watery laugh, "Yeah. That's why I came, anyway. I wanted to know if you'd like company to go visit her today?"

"'Safety in numbers?'" Peyton chuckles, remembering when she'd tried to convince Haley to visit Luke in the hospital last year. Then she frowns with the realization she'll be going back to her hospital room for the morning. "Yay." She mocks, doing a little cheer wave of her hand.

"yeah, I'd like that." Brooke nods, seating herself on the bed right next to Peyton, who grins at the girl that can't see her. "When I went yesterday afternoon, it was just Larry. Kept him company for a while, but he left so me and Peyton could have privacy, or something."

Haley nods too, shifting to lean against the open closet door, right under her husband's name. A fact that makes the blonde on the bed roll her eyes, recalling the 'married-people limbo' phase of the couple. "I feel bad, that I only went to see her once. I guess I've just been caught up in my own stuff. Anyway, I stopped by Luke's to see if you guys wanted to join me, but he was conked out. So I tried here. How's he doing?" Haley scoffs, shaking her head at herself and continuing before an answer can be given, "I really am a horrible friend, huh? If I don't even know that much about _my_ best—"

"Whoa!" Brooke interrupts, wide eyed. "You're not horrible. Just doing some things you need to. And I don't know how he's doing."

Peyton narrows her eyes at the brunette with a frown. How can she not know? Don't they see each other everyday? She focuses her attention on her best friend as the questions in her head happen to fly out of Haley's mouth. With a small glare, Brooke slides off the bed, moving to the desk to fiddle with the art work tossed haphazardly upon it.

"Brooke?" Haley prompts, when the other girl fails to give an answer.

Turning, the brunette shrugs casually, belying the tension creeping into her expression. "Luke and I broke up, Hales."

"What?" It's an echoed exclamation, coming from both blondes at once.

"The other day." Brooke explains further.

Haley moves to lay a hand on Brooke's arm. "What happened?"

And why hadn't Luke said anything about it? They had just talked last night, about a lot of things. And not once had he let on that something like this had happened. He must be devastated. Peyton ignores the tiny part of her that wants to smile at the fact he's single. It probably won't last, anyway. Brooke and Lucas always had drama going on. But they always get better afterwards.

She tunes back into the conversation when Brooke says, "...then he talked about us not trusting each other. I try to be there for him, but he won't let me. He said it was just too hard. And just like _that_," With a snap of her fingers, "We're apparently done."

Peyton grimaces. Haley makes a sympathetic face, "I don't think so. He loves you, but he's just going through a lot right now. Once he's able to stop and think, he'll realize he misses you." She smiles widely. "And I bet the two of you will be back to normal in no time!"

Brooke shakes her head. "No we won't. I thought about what he said, and he's right, you know? We didn't trust each other the way we should have."

"Why not?" Haley queries gently. She sits on the end of the bed, dropping her purse to the floor by her feet. Brooke joins her, causing Peyton to instinctively scoot over.

Her tone slightly dry, "Well, I can't talk for him...but for me, I think a lot of it goes back to what happened last year, with him and Peyton. And I just never really trusted that they wouldn't do that again."

The guilt kicks in with that statement, at what happened between the three of them. Peyton sighs, turning her head to study her best friend. And feels utterly wretched for not only sneaking around behind Brooke's back last year, but also for still loving him to this day. Not to mention, spending this time with him. She only hopes her situation didn't play a part in their break up...she couldn't stand it if it had. All the same, she refuses to be sorry for having Lucas during this time, for not having to be alone in this weird in-between.

"Okay." Haley draws out slowly. "But, that stuff can be worked on. It takes time to build up trust like that. Maybe you two need to give it that time, and not break up in the midst of emotional turmoil. Especially since I know you guys love each other."

Shaking her head again, Brooke half-whispers, "I do...but he—he _ran_ back to protect Peyton. And I love him for that. But I can't help thinking..."

She trails off, looking down at her hands on her lap. Peyton clambers to her feet to face both girls fully, shaking slightly and trying to keep her breathing regulated. It sounds like it's all about to be dumped on her shoulders again. She can't handle that, not now. But maybe she's kind of masochistic, because she won't leave without hearing it, either.

"Are you...are you _blaming_ Peyton?" Haley's incredulous.

"Oh god, no!" Brooke cries, looking horrified. She jerks her head to face the girl next to her. "No! Of course not! I just—I'm only saying, that I think he loves her. To do what he did..." Tears start welling in her eyes and her voice breaks, "How can he not?"

"Because he's a good guy, Brooke!" Peyton exclaims, hands flying in front of her, frustrated because she knows her best friend can't hear her. "That's just who he is! _Why_ can't you see that?" She steps closer to the brunette, wishing she could make her listen. "The boy is _crazy_ about you! So am I. You just have to give him that time Haley's talkin' about. He really needs it; trust me."

She ignores the painful squeeze to her heart at the fact she's trying to convince Brooke—who can't hear her anyway—of how much Lucas loves her. But Peyton loves them both; as long as they're happy, she will be, too.

"Brooke," Haley starts calmly, "Luke...he really cares about Peyton, we all do. He carried her out because of that. But it doesn't mean he doesn't love _you_."

"That's not all of it, though." Brooke interjects despondently. "It's the trust thing. I just don't...trust his feelings about either of us."

The petite blonde huffs out a breath, rising to her feet to amble around the room. "I guess I can understand that. You've all been through a lot."

"Yeah, understatement there, Tutor-girl." Brooke gives a watery half-laugh. "We had a—a triangle of hell, going on!"

Haley makes a face and offers up a sheepish smile before it spreads into a genuine one. "But then he fought for you."

That statement gives Peyton's heart a quick jolt, enforcing a fact she was already aware of. No matter what had happened between them in the past, Lucas' heart belonged to Brooke completely. It's only the brunette who refuses to believe it.

Brooke rolls her eyes. "Sure he did. But he never did the one thing I kept asking him to." A confused look crosses Haley's face, making Brooke look away shamefully. "I told him to stay away from Peyton. He never did."

"What?" Once again, it's an echoed statement. Peyton's stunned. And a little sickened. All this time, she'd thought she and Brooke had fully repaired their friendship. That Brooke was absolutely happy in her relationship with Lucas. And that Brooke was okay with Lucas and Peyton being friends. Apparently it was an illusion, a house of cards just waiting for a puff of breath. And here it was.

Haley continues, voice tinged with disbelief, "You asked him to stay away from her?"

"Not in those words exactly." Brooke fidgets uncomfortably. "But pretty much."

"Wow. I—I don't—I don't know what to say." Haley stutters, darting a quick look at Brooke before focusing her gaze on the closet doors. Gesturing towards them, "Does that have anything to do with these? I wondered."

Peyton turns to look at the doors too, Brooke's way of ensuring they didn't go after any of the same guys. A playful little dart at their history. That, in light of new information, wasn't playful at all, really. Collapsing onto the bed next to Brooke again, Peyton has to battle back a surge of emotion, devastated that she didn't know her best friend felt this way about her.

An uncomfortable silence permeates the room, neither girl knowing what to say now, both just staring at those lists written on the doors. The third girl unnoticed as she loses herself in a morass of confusion. It _hurts_ to witness a conversation that never would have been heard if not for her unconscious state. She doesn't quite know what to do with this new information from her best friend. Or what this means for their friendship anyway.

Brooke breaks the tension. "You know, I thought if I could just joke about it, I wouldn't worry about it."

Haley nods, a look of understanding gracing her features, while the other blonde scoffs bitterly. "Yeah, _that_ doesn't work. For any situation."

"But now what?" Haley questions. "I mean, you really can't put Peyton in that position this time. She's in a _coma_. And she didn't really do anything."

Peyton flinches. Nope, not a thing. Except maybe kiss the guy and confess that she loved him. And then turned it into a joke so she wouldn't have to worry about him freaking out on her while she bleeds to death. She really hopes that's not a reason her best friend got her heart broken.

The brunette flops backwards, staring up at the ceiling. "God, I really sound like a bitch right now, don't I?"

"Maybe just a little." The other girl teases gently.

"I don't mean to." Brooke shares in a murmur. "It all just hurts. And if you stop and think about it, all of us—me, Luke, Peyton—did it to ourselves."

The blonde in question tilts her head to better see her friend's face next to hers as they lay side by side. Brooke keeps going, "And the funny part is, we hurt each other in the long run by trying _not_ to hurt each other at the start. Is that just stupid, or what?"

Haley walks over, standing so she's peering down at the other girl. "So you're saying, that if you guys had been less nice about it, you'd all be okay?"

Peyton raises her eyebrows at that one. She was always taught that no one ever lost a lot of sleep by being too nice. Apparently, there _is_ such a thing as _too_ nice. She can't suppress the highly inappropriate giggle that escapes her lips. A giggle that becomes a full out laugh once Brooke starts doing the same thing.

Haley stands there, nonplussed at the random reaction to her words. She nudges Brooke, who tries to calm down. It takes her a moment to control the giggles, breathing hard as she stares up at Haley's flummoxed face. "Well, miss Married-at-Sixteen, the rest of us don't move that fast." She heaves herself to a sitting position. "But I guess you can say that. I'm not sure. It does seem that way, though."

"Hindsight's 20/20." Peyton whispers, turning onto her side facing the other two. If she were to be honest with herself, she could see what Brooke might mean. If she'd just told her best friend that she didn't like the idea of her going after Lucas in the first place, maybe they could have avoided a lot of the mess they'd created. Not that Brooke would have really listened back then; she had loved the thrill of the chase. Luke was the first guy she ever kept after catching him. Peyton sputters out a laugh when a whimsical, half-forgotten rhyme enters her mind, "Eeny, meeny, miny, moe/catch a tiger by the toe/if he hollers let him go..." She can't help wondering what had made Luke "holler" enough. Or why these thoughts are in her head at all.

"_Any_way." Brooke scoots off the bed, with an overly bright smile. "We were gonna go visit P. Sawyer today, right?"

Haley glances at her watch, "Oh! Yeah, I was supposed to meet Nathan there, actually. Once I got you two." She gives the other girl a sheepish smile. "Like, twenty minutes ago."

The brunette chuckles, looping her arm through the shorter girl's and tugging her towards the door. "Well, let's go meet up with your husband then!"

Peyton sighs, rolling over onto her back. Brooke just hid behind her cheerful mask again, and she's not sure what to think about it all. It's a lot to sort through. The important thing is that if—_when_—she wakes from her coma, she and Brooke start being more honest with each other. Their friendship depends on it.

Hearing the front door open, Peyton bounces to her feet, thinking herself to Brooke again. Then she's settling down in the backseat as they drive towards that damn hospital room, listening to a conversation between the other two about Karen's grief over Keith.

**0.o o_o o.0**

A sharp pinch to his foot has Lucas surging out of a sound sleep, his only thought bursting past his exhaustion, "Peyton?" Before he remembers that she can't touch him.

Confused, he forces his eyes open. The sight he sees is his mom, standing at the foot of the bed with pursed lips and surprise in her eyes. Her presence is both welcome and feared, since he's not sure where to go from the other day's encounter.

Lucas hauls himself to a sitting position, darting quick looks at his parent, not feeling prepared enough to face her just yet. When Peyton had told him to talk to his mom, he was expecting to at least have some time to muster up the courage he'd need for any sort of conversation.

"'He did a good job with you.'" It's a quiet murmur that pierces the tense atmosphere.

He blinks, eyes shooting up to meet hers, stunned by her words. She smiles softly at him, moving closer to where he's situated at the head of the bed. She briefly hesitates before seating herself right next to his hip, facing him. She reaches out, laying her hand on his arm in a comforting gesture. One that has him automatically covering her hand with his. He's missed this. He's missed _her_, being his mom.

"Ma—"

She lifts her free hand, index finger raised in a silencing gesture. He's been brought up too well not to obey the subtle command from his mother. Underneath the blankets, his free hand curls into a fist, an attempt to bolster his nerves for what's to come.

Gifting him with a small, sad smile, Karen takes a deep breath. "When you were born, and they placed you into my arms for the first time...I was scared to death. I couldn't believe that I was going to be responsible for a tiny little life, that I'd have to keep you safe and teach you how to be a good man. I didn't have a clue what I was doing!" She gives a little watery laugh, tears sparkling in her eyes.

Lucas swallows the lump of emotion trapped in his throat, rendered defenseless by the sight of his mom vulnerable. Bewildered by the topic and scared that he might not be able to handle it.

She continues in the softest tone he's ever heard from her, "It's amazing, you know. That you don't know how much you can love someone, until you meet your child. And watch that child become this...really _good_ man, with a heart of gold."

His grip on her hand tightens, her image becoming blurred by threatening tears of his own, as hers start sliding down her face. She turns her hand under his, locking her fingers around his in a fierce grasp.

"I love you. More than anything. You don't know how..._terrified_ I was standing outside that day. Not being able to tell the police what you were wearing. Not knowing if you were hurt or d-dy-ing—" She chokes, sucking in a sharp breath of air, persisting despite her difficulty speaking. "Not able...to k-keep you safe, like I'm s-supposed to—"

Control fails him, emotion overflowing his eyes, as he pulls his mom into a tight hug. She burrows her face against his shoulder, trembling as she clings to him. Her voice is hoarse and muffled, "I'm sorry. I'm so, _so_ sorry for hurting you."

He rocks her gently in a side to side motion, trying to soothe. "It's okay. Shhh, Ma, it's okay...I'm okay...shhh."

They remain that way for countless moments, gaining solace from their embrace and peace from freeing the storm of emotions. Finally drawing back, she rubs shaky hands over her face and gives him a faltering smile. "I didn't mean it. Blaming you for Keith. I was just...so _angry_ when I found out you purposely ran into danger, instead of staying outside, _safe_. So scared at how close I came to losing you."

Lucas nods slightly, turning away to scrub at his eyes. Looking back at her, he croaks out, "I _had_ to, mom." He braces himself for a negative reaction. But he knows he did.

She surprises him by cupping his face with her hands. "I know." She whispers. It's barely a sound, but the conviction strong. "That's how Keith taught you to be. And he did a good job with you."

"I miss him." The words escaping his mouth in a husky mumble.

She uses her thumb to gently wipe a tear he hadn't known he'd shed, and compresses her lips to stop the quiver. "Me, too." Pulling him back into her arms.

Since he can't see her face, he feels more able to say the next words, "I'm mad at him for going back in, though. And not coming out again."

Her response is a strangled sob, and to tighten her arms around his body. He finds himself once again making shushing sounds and _it's okays_ in a mindless litany. He's trying to stay strong, to be someone his mom can count on for support in her grief. He's trying to feel okay about being this vulnerable himself. But she's his mom. They're a team. And he needs her to make it okay.

When the tears are spent, she leans limply against him. "I'm a little mad at that, too."

"It's okay to be mad." He leans his head against hers, feeling drained but oddly lighter. "Peyton told me that. You just can't close everyone else out while you're feeling it."

Karen makes a little humming sound, straightening to a sitting position and facing him. "When she'd tell you that?"

"A while ago." He shrugs absently, inwardly chastising himself for bringing up a subject no one would believe. "Something she learned when she lost her mom."

His mom nods her head softly, exhaling a sigh. "When I was sitting with Larry yesterday, he said something about Peyton being the one to hold him together back then. His reason for trying to be okay."

Lucas tilts his head to the side, regarding her out of one narrowed eye when she stops there.

"That's how I knew I'd be okay...eventually." She smiles at him, a smile tinged with sadness, but one of love. "_You're_ my reason to be okay. That's why I got mad, because I wouldn't know how to be okay if I had lost you, too."

He doesn't know what would be the right words to say in the moment. So he says nothing. It's a silence filled with understanding as he reaches out to clasp her hand with his again. He simply smiles at her as a weight falls from him, one he hadn't noticed until the debilitating burden was no longer there. He's still mourning. He's still sad. But this moment in time, he feels like things will be okay.

"Mom?" When her eyes meet his, he squeezes her hand, "Thanks. For talking to me."

She squeezes back. "Ditto." Rising from the bed, she lightly pats his knee. "It's still early, if you want to go back to sleep."

"Nah. I'm up." He stretches, flashing a dimpled grin and softly teasing, "I was never able to go back to bed after the _toe thing_."

She smirks, making her way out the room. Pausing in the doorway, she turns and studies him. "I'm going to check in with Deb, I think. Maybe stop by to see Larry later. Are you going to visit...Peyton?"

He raises his eyebrows at the way she says Peyton's name, but answers the question at face value. "Probably. Yeah."

"Okay." She says simply. "Give her my love, too."

Lucas watches his mom disappear from the doorway, a little confused by that last exchange. He shrugs it away, leaning against his pillows for a few minutes, going over his morning thus far. He was happy to see his mom being his mom again, even though he's aware the sadness won't ever fade completely. There will be good days and bad days, but simply knowing that his mom doesn't blame him for what happened, that their bond isn't broken...it gives him faith that they'll be able to weather all the days ahead.

And so far, today is a good day.

Pulling himself from the tangle of his covers and standing, he stops short at an overturned picture frame on his dresser. It's been there for the last few days; he's been unable to look at it. But maybe... Holding his breath a little, Lucas turns it over, gazing at the grinning faces of a much-younger family. A family that will never be the same. _His_ family. But this time, the pain isn't crippling. It's sharp, deep and raw, but manageable. So he takes that picture and gives it a place of honor on his nightstand, to let that happy little family have their memory.

With one final small smile at it, Lucas makes his way out the room, intending on getting ready to face this good day. Before something happens to it.

**0.o o_o o.0**

Laughter fills the room, "...no, seriously!" Haley exclaims with a grin, "She did! She got up with me for sound check, and we're goofing off singing the chorus in _I Don't Care_ and she's doing air guitar—"

"God, I can just picture that!" Nathan breaks in, grinning over at the unconscious blonde in the bed. "She always had some goofball moments!"

Haley mock glares at him, "_Any_way, as I was saying—" A pointed look at her husband that has him smiling at her, "—when in walks the band we're imitating!"

"I would have just died! Right there on the spot!" Brooke giggles. "But know what makes it funnier?"

Peyton, who's perched on the end of the hospital bed, groans. "Please don't..."

But she does. "The fact that Pete Wentz totally flirted with her before their set!"

"You're kidding!" Haley's mouth falls open in shock.

Larry gives them both a weird look. "Who?"

"Some singer, or something." Nathan informs him helpfully. The girl sitting on the bed covers her face with her hands and groans. Not only at the conversation itself, but that Nathan got it _totally_ wrong.

Thankfully Haley's there to correct his error. "I can't believe you just called him a singer! He's a _bass_ player. And a song writer." Nathan just shrugs, completely unconcerned with the difference.

"Who?" Larry interjects again.

Brooke gives him a wide eyed stare. "Pete Wentz? From Fall Out Boy? Totally cute, by the way. And totally flirted with her."

"Thanks, Brooke. Thanks a lot." Peyton wryly states, watching her dad perk up with interest at the mention of flirting.

"Whatever." Nathan dismisses. "He's a rock star. He probably flirts with every hot girl he sees."

Haley rolls her eyes, "Or maybe he was interested in _her_."

"He was! I saw the whole thing."

"Was not!" Peyton protests with a smirk. "And you didn't even see anything, 'cause there wasn't anything _to_ see!"

"Why are we even having this conversation?" Larry wonders aloud. "I don't think I want to hear about rock stars hitting on my _daughter_."

The two girls look at each other, both trying to muffle their giggles at a typical dad reaction. Peyton rolls her eyes, but looks on fondly. This visit was definitely going better than she'd expected. Being in that hospital room wasn't depressing anymore. It's actually heartwarming. She likes listening to the random topics of conversation that come up. She loves the fact that her dad doesn't look so beat down, that he's actually letting himself smile and talk about inane things.

"Okay, okay!" Brooke laughs, pointing at Nathan, "Your turn."

The boy looks over at the bed, fully able to see one blonde, but not the other. Peyton waggles her eyebrows at him, "Tell them about the time I totally kicked your ass at pool and you practically cried!"

"I know!" He smirks at the rest of the group in the semi-circle of chairs. "You know how the girl loves her sleep, right?"

A chorus of affirmatives and nods answer his question. "Well, when we first started dating, I used to come over in the mornings to walk her to school, since we didn't drive."

"Is this going to get...awkward?" Larry asks with a challenging tone. Brooke chokes on air, remembering how a large part of the Nathan/Peyton relationship had gone.

Without skipping a beat the boy cheerfully states, "Not at all! It's gonna get funny!"

"Well, tell it!" Haley half whines impatiently. Peyton just shakes her head. But she really does like this memory.

"Jeez." He makes a face at his wife. "Well, she wasn't easy to wake up. So I used to take one of her curls and brush it over her face 'til she hit herself."

A burst of laughter erupts from Brooke. "Oh my god! I have to try that next time."

"Don't even think about it!" Peyton playfully warns her best friend. "Or I will...do something...bad..." She rolls her eyes at her highly ineffective threat. For a lot of reasons.

"Wait. How'd you get in the house?"

The three teens share glances, silently agreeing to keep quiet about the fact that Peyton doesn't lock the doors.

"Spare key." Haley supplies.

Nathan picks it up, "One of us always had it. I think Brooke's got it now, right?"

"Mhmm." She agrees readily.

Larry regards them all suspiciously, but nods in acceptance.

"Nice one, guys." Peyton chuckles.

"Anyway, finish your turn, Superstar." Brooke demands, lightly nudging Nathan's foot with her own.

He grins. "Every time I did that, she'd give me this scary glare and come up with the randomest threats!" He chuckles, lightly shaking his head. "The best one was the time she told me that if I did it again, she'd whack me with a cannoli."

Larry and Haley start laughing, but Brooke looks confused. "I don't get it."

Peyton rolls her eyes. She really has to work on her friend's movie education.

"Don't worry, I didn't either." Nathan shares with a roll of his eyes. "She gave me the _weirdest_ look when I said that! She was all like 'Dude, don't tell me you've never seen Godfather' then made me watch the entire set that weekend."

"Those are some great movies!" Larry defends good naturedly.

Haley nods. "Luke and I used to have marathons all the time, too."

"And I still don't get it." Brooke complains.

Nathan makes a face. "Jeez, you don't have to rush me, Brooke."

"Then don't be slow!" She tosses back, with a flutter of her hand.

He continues, ignoring her, "Yeah, I ended up really liking them. But anyway, _Brooke_, the thing in the movie is, after he whacked off the guy, he left his gun behind and took the bakery box of cannoli." He pauses dramatically before telling her the next part, Peyton chiming in to say it with him, "Since you leave the gun, the cannoli is the only weapon you have on hand when you want to whack the next person who pisses you off!"

She bursts into laughter, meeting the laughing blue eyes of one of her closest friends. When they widen, and his face leeches of all color, her laughter abruptly stops. They stare at each other for only a split second before Nathan squeezes his eyes shut tightly. She holds her breath, but when he opens them again, he just aims a confused look at where she's sitting. She watches him shake it off, feeling her heart sink. That was closer than he came to seeing her last time.

But she does notice the odd looks he shoots her way a few times, while letting the chattering voices of her female friends wash over her.

"Is that it?" Brooke asks, "'Cause it wasn't all that funny."

Nathan turns his attention back to the rest of the people in the room. "No, there's more. Me and her spent every lunch period for the next week sitting at the farthest table in the cafeteria, just us. The 'mob' table, the one that people can't sneak up on—"

"Where was I?" Brooke interrupts.

Haley snarks, "Probably chasing some guy." As soon as the words fly out, her eyes get wide and she sends an apologetic look to a stunned Brooke.

Larry clears his throat, and Nathan snickers. "You can't say that didn't happen."

The brunette sticks her tongue out at him, but grins at Haley. "Eh, you're probably right, anyway."

"No _probably_ about it, B. Davis!" Peyton adds with a fond grin at her friend's old habits.

"I bought a box of cannoli, but we didn't really feel like eating them. So I got us in trouble when I kept trying to hit Tim from across the room, and ended up bouncing them off of people who kept getting in the line of fire."

"Dude, that's just wrong!" Haley cries with a snicker. "But it's Tim, so I get it."

Larry agrees with a grin of his own, "I get it, too. But I hope it wasn't a lot of trouble you got her in?" He spears the boy with a 'parental' look.

Nathan gives her dad a sheepish grin and shrugs. "We got detention. She spent all of it ignoring me and…_coloring_." He says the last part with a mocking sneer aimed at the hospital bed.

She merely shakes her head. "Oh, you'll pay for that when I _do_ wake up."

"Okay, that was kind of funny." Brooke allows. "But not as great as my turn."

"When you told the story about almost burning down my house?" Larry drawls.

Haley mocks Brooke, emulating her affronted tone, "'One little smoke detector!'"

"Well it _was_." The brunette pouts.

Everyone chuckles, Peyton savoring the lighthearted atmosphere that fills the room. There's a moment of silence that falls naturally over the group as they come down from the subject they were discussing.

"You know," Haley muses, "I haven't really known her long. But I feel like I have, sometimes. She's become such a big part of my life in such a short time."

Larry smiles at her and then glances over at the hospital bed. His smile falters for a moment, which sends a ping of sadness through Peyton.

"Yeah." Brooke expands. "P. Sawyer can be hard to get to know, but when you do, you can't ask for a more supportive friend."

And maybe Peyton lets that smooth over the small hurts from Brooke's earlier words. Friendships aren't always cut and dried, black and white, right and wrong. They're usually tangled knots of all sorts of emotions. Especially friendships that have lasted as long as theirs has.

"Speaking of friends," Nathan butts in, "Anyone know where Luke is?"

There's a chorus of negative responses and worried looks exchanged. No one's seen him for a while.

Peyton stirs to her feet, deciding to just go and get him. It's not like it's that hard for her to do.

**0.o o_o o.0**

He'd taken his time in the shower, enjoying the rush of hot water sluicing over his skin. Until it suddenly turned icy. He hadn't enjoyed that part.

Turning his head to check the time, Lucas swears softly to himself. He'd taken longer than planned, wanting to get over to the hospital before Larry got too settled. And he wasn't even fully dressed yet.

Yanking a pair of jeans from his bottom drawer, he shoves one leg into them…only to trip over himself and nearly stumble to the ground at the unexpected appearance of a girl in his room.

"Oh, my god!" She warbles, half turning around as she dissolves into laughter. "Do you get dressed that way _every_ morning, Luke?"

"Every time someone pops themselves in without warning." He shoots back, feeling his face heat up as he quickly pulls on his pants. Reaching for a T-shirt, he tells her, "I'm decent."

"You sure?" She teases. "You're not gonna suddenly fall over if I look at you?"

He rolls his eyes as he dons his shirt, his voice muffled when he jokes, "Just don't look too fast!"

Peyton faces him, rolling her eyes and scrunching up her face. But she stops when she goes to speak, tilting her head at him consideringly. He tries suppressing his grin, but he feels like his mood is fully on display anyway.

Green eyes widen at him. "What'd you do?"

"Nothing." He shrugs, moving to sit on the edge of the bed and reaching for his socks and shoes. "Well, actually, I made a decision this morning that I wanted to ask you about."

"What?" She asks, testing the edge of his desk to prop up against it. Sighing in defeat when she passes right through the thing.

Lucas raises his eyebrow at her actions. "You do remember that you're…not solid, right?"

"_No_, here I thought everything _else_ was turning insubstantial." The sarcasm makes him smirk, earning a small glare from the blonde standing in front of him with her hands on her hips. "What'd you want to ask?"

He busies himself with his shoelaces, "Jimmy's funeral is tomorrow. I'm gonna go…for support. With the rest of the guys. Will you come with us, too?"

He senses movement as she comes closer, looking up to see her crouch down to be eye level. She gives him a smile, "Of course I will. I'm really proud of you, you know that?"

"It's what Keith would've done." He tells her. But he's pleased she feels that way. Her opinion means a lot to him and he'd hate to disappoint her.

She stands again, watching him yank the knot into place and sit up straight. Biting her lip, she stares at him intently.

Feeling self-conscious, Lucas rubs his hand over his face. "What are you staring at? Do I have toothpaste on my face or something?"

"You look...different." She murmurs absently, narrowing her eyes. "Did something happen?"

"I took your advice. Talked to my mom." He grins at her, letting it widen when her expression lights up.

"Luke! That's really great!"

He nods. "Yeah. Went much better than I expected it to."

"I'm glad." He can hear the sincerity in her voice, and can actually see the happiness for him in her eyes. It makes him feel warm inside, so he takes the moment to savor the feeling.

A comfortable quiet descends between the two of them. It only lasts a few moments before she starts shifting her weight from one foot to the other. He spies her fingers twisting together in front of her. A nervous habit that makes him slightly uneasy.

Glancing up at her, Luke's startled to see an indecipherable expression on her face, completely opposite of her earlier openness.

"What happened with you?" He questions warily. Not sure he wants to let his good day go this soon.

She shrugs. "I overheard Brooke and Haley talking this morning."

She doesn't expand, and she really doesn't need to, because he knows what she's asking. He sighs and rises to his feet as well, "About the break up?"

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" She inquires, frowning at him. "I mean, with the timing and everything, too?"

"I think so." He runs a hand through his hair, pacing away a few steps. "Brooke and I…we tried, you know? But it really wasn't working the way I wanted it to."

Her frown deepens slightly. "Why?"

Lucas shrugs, not really sure what she's expecting. "Me, mostly." He's being as honest as he can, since he's not fully sure of the answer himself.

"Okay." She drawls slowly, blinking at him. "Well, if you need to talk…"

He grins. "Thanks. You really are a great friend, you know that?"

Something he doesn't understand flashes in her eyes. But it's gone before he can indisputably claim it had been there. It leaves him uncertain about whether he'd actually seen anything at all.

"Of course." Peyton smirks at him. "I'm an _awesome_ friend!"

"Humble, too!" He retorts with a laugh.

She giggles—actually _giggles_. "I learned that from you, Lucas Scott!"

"Haha." He rolls his eyes, querying drolly, "What else did you learn from one of the greats?"

"This." She states simply, putting an expression of false seriousness on her face as she stumbles over her feet.

When their eyes meet, she tries really hard to compress her mouth, but the laughter rings out anyway. He joins in, even though embarrassment is shooting through his veins. He just knows he's never going to live that one down.

"Luke?" She starts, once her laughing fit has calmed.

He's leaning against his desk facing her. "Hmm?"

"What time tomorrow?"

He gives her a small smile, studying the clear compassion in her eyes. "Early. Eight."

She nods, obviously falling into her own thoughts. He continues, "Hey Peyton?"

"Hmm?"

Giving her a wry look at the intentional mimicry, before it melts into a genuine smile. "Thanks for going with me. I think…I'm probably going to need the support, too."

"Of course." She flashes him a grin. "Just don't talk to me. I can't be seen with you."

He squints at her, pursing his lips. But he can't help enjoying her unusually sunny mood. It seems to match his uncharacteristic one of this morning, too.

"Some friend." He intones sadly. "Abandoning me for the sake of appearing sane. Don't you _want_ to join me in the insanity?"

"Anything for you." She mocks, rolling her eyes.

He laughs, bringing his hand to his chest. "Gets me right here."

Peyton narrows her eyes at him playfully. When a mischievous look crosses her face, he gets leery. "We're friends, right?"

"Well, yeah." He's startled into a quick answer, never hesitating.

"So we need a fight song. To describe what's going on with us right now."

"A what?" He questions dubiously.

She doesn't answer. At least not directly. She starts humming, and bouncing to the rhythm of her tune. It's when she starts singing that his mouth drops open. It takes a moment for the words to register, but when they do, he can't stop the fond amusement.

"Lean on me, when you're not strong/and I'll be your friend/I'll help you carry on/for it won't be long, 'till I'm gonna need/somebody to lean on!" She dances over, halting right in front of him and gesturing for him to join her.

He shakes his head, but she only raises her eyebrow, and gestures again. He caves. He can't help it. Adding his voice to the next verse and bopping around to the off-key beat they've created.

He whirls around, slowing his movements as he takes in the sparkling green eyes and laughing face of the girl who really is helping him carry a heavy load.

It's not an epiphany. It doesn't come like a flash of lightning, or hit him over the head. It's a subtle glow, a recognition and understanding of what's always been there. There's a reason he can tell her things no one else is privy to. There's a reason he seeks her out time and time again. She gets him. Understands the dark edges. Knows when to push and when to back away.

There's a reason he feels compelled to keep her safe and protect her. _She_ makes _him_ feel safe. Like everything he shares with her is handled with the utmost care. Cherished, no matter how tarnished he may be.

And he's in love with her.

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**A/N: excuse this as it's late and I'm tired. I don't own the song "Lean on Me" by The Temptations, used as the LP fight song. I wrote this in the last couple of hours, didn't really proof it as much as I should, so if you find any glaring mistakes...please PM them to me! :)**

**Otherwise, Hope you enjoyed it! Review and let me know what you're thinking!  
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	10. One Step Forward And Two Steps Back

**A/N: Massively huge THANK YOU for everyone who's reading and reviewing! I'm years behind in replying, but I promise to respond as soon as I can :) They are all definitely appreciated! Your comments help keep this story story going, and I'm doing my best to make sure I keep updating and not let it fall to abandonment when life interferes, lol.**

**Per usual, I don't own OTH or it's characters...just the journey and all mistakes as it's unbeta'd. Actually not sure I own the journey either, since this chapter wasn't in my plans...the characters insisted they have it! ;P**

**Chapter title comes from a lyric in "One Step Forward" by Desert Rose Band.**

**Enjoy!

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**Ch10: One Step Forward And Two Steps Back/Nobody Gets Too Far Like That**

Peyton contentedly hums to herself as she absently wanders around her hospital room. A small smile creeps over her lips when her thoughts bounce back to the afternoon. It had been a good day. She got to sit and listen to her friends share fun memories, she got to see her dad with a smile on his face, and she got to dance around playing with the boy she loves.

A low laugh escapes at the memory and a warmth rushes through her. Admittedly, the boy can't sing and he can't dance, but she loves that he did it anyway. Just to have a little fun. He needed it. They both did.

At the loud click of the door opening, she glances over, only mildly interested when two nurses enter. Stacy, her regular evening-shift nurse, heads straight to the monitors, flipping open Peyton's chart and recording the newest information. Peyton leans closer, trying to sneak a look at the rest of her chart. Not that she understands everything on it...she's just curious.

"Stace? Foley level's not where it should be." The nurse straightens from her crouching position by the foot of the bed. Peyton follows both women's gazes to the saline for her IV drip, noting only that it's still mostly full. The way she thought it usually was.

"Damn it." Stacy starts adjusting the tubing. "There's a kink. Who'd you switch shifts with...Mel? How'd she not see that?"

The other nurse, Jessica, reaches for the chart on the table where Stacy had tossed it. "Well...there's no info recorded for this morning or this afternoon." She glances up with an annoyed expression. "My guess is she didn't even bother to check."

Stacy sighs. "That explains the slight dehydration I noticed."

"Ugh. I _told_ Mel, when we switched, to pay extra attention to this one." Jessica's eyes flicker to the unconscious girl. "Plus, she was supposed to get physio today. No note of that, either."

"Yeah, that was rescheduled for tomorrow, 'cause Dr. Kaur was called to Children's in Charlotte." Stacy explains, giving a light squeeze to the bag of saline. Peyton wrinkles her nose, following the path of the tubing from the drip to the needle inserted in her arm. She hates needles.

"So Mel decided not to do her job and come at _all_?" There's a hint of bitterness in her tone that has the other woman raising her eyebrows.

"Whoa, Jess. I get you're upset, but...professional distance? Remember that?"

Jessica ignores her, leaning against the bed and reaching for the pillows to help Stacy reposition Peyton to her opposite side. The blonde teen kind of always feels weirded out when they do that. She knows it's to prevent bedsores from forming, but watching them move her around like a giant doll is unsettling. She lightly shudders, quickly averting her eyes and skirting the bed to seat herself in one of the chairs on the other side.

"Jess?"

The nurse sighs, "I know, I know...the whole distance thing. But I...I feel sorry for this one. She's alone, except for her dad. I don't even think anyone'd notice—besides him—if we moved her to a different room every shift. It makes me sad, you know? So during the day, I make sure when I come in, to talk a little, maybe open the blinds, stuff like that. I _told_ Mel to do that."

Peyton's taken aback. She had thought Jessica was always like that and did those things for everyone. She just gave off that kind of vibe, walking around with bouncy steps and a near-constant smile on her face. Peyton isn't sure she likes knowing the woman _feels sorry_ for her, and that's why she does it. She _is_ sure that she doesn't like the knots forming in her stomach at the pity on both women's faces.

"Yeah." Stacy agrees. "But maybe that's why Mel stayed away today. I picked up extra hours and came on shift towards the tail end of a group visit to her." The skepticism is blatantly obvious on Jess' expression, so after one look, Stacy rushes to elaborate. "It's true! I think there were a couple kids from school. Apparently they were here most of the day, telling stories and talking about going on a trip once she wakes up."

Jess gathers up the dirty blanket off the bed, rolling it into a ball and shoving it into the rolling hamper. She scoffs, "About time, if you ask me...if it's even true. Even Eddie, down the hall, has visitors constantly, and he was only admitted the day before yesterday!"

"He's a kid. People always visit kids." Stacy explains, unfolding the clean linen to drape over Peyton's unconscious form. "Besides, the girl hasn't been ignored." She gestures with her head towards the table across the room. "See those?"

Jess shoots her an incredulous look. "She's a kid, too! And the flowers? One from the school administration, one from the city council, some from her dad, and some from me. Oh yeah, I totally see the love, here."

"You bring her flowers?"

Peyton stares at the young nurse with wide eyes. She's never really thought about where all of the vases had come from. She'd seen her dad bring some in, and had assumed her friends had sent some. Turns out, she assumed wrong.

Jess' face flushes. "The only person who really comes in here is her dad. This way, it looks a little more cheerful for him. And like I said, I feel bad she doesn't have anyone. How's she supposed to get through this without any support? And you can't say no one knows about what happened, 'cause it's splashed all over the news."

"Kids can't always visit, Jess, you know that." Stacy smiles at her friend softly, pushing the hampers and table back to their positions.

She nods. "I know. But they can at least check in. Send a card. Flowers. _Something_ to let her know they care and she's not alone in this."

Peyton watches the women move towards the door, Stacy shaking her head, "You can't save everyone. You can only do your job. And sometimes that little extra."

Right before they close the door, Jess turns and sends a sad wave to the girl in the bed. "Night, Peyton. See you tomorrow."

And just like that, the feeling of contentment is shattered. Peyton takes in a shuddery breath, chest feeling tight, as she draws her legs up, wrapping her arms around them and burying her face against her knees. Squeezing her eyes shut as memories from the early days assail her.

After she'd 'woken' up next to herself, she'd freaked out. Tried everything to get someone's attention. Worried endlessly about what was going on. _Questioned_ what was going on. She'd nearly lost her damn mind. And she really only had one distraction.

Every single time she'd heard the audible click of the door, she would quickly jerk her head up, hopeful gaze on the entrance, waiting for someone she loved to walk through. Only to have her hopes constantly dashed, when in walked a nurse or doctor. Never anyone else.

She'd had a lot of time to sit in that room, to think, to justify, to excuse. To wait. After countless hours, she'd learned not to expect anyone. Not to be hopeful. Learned to rebuild those walls she had taken such pains to break down, to revert in habit a little bit and protect whatever part of her soul she could.

But she'd continually catch herself snapping her gaze to that door at every turn of the knob anyway.

When hours became days, she'd seriously wondered why she bothered to care. No one else did. Except her dad. She _understood _that people were reeling from the school shooting. She _knew_ people would be dealing with their own situations and emotions in the aftermath. She _expected_ people to put themselves first a little bit, before worrying about anyone else. But she _ached_ every time that door opened and killed her hopes.

But for some reason, no matter how many times that happened, she never stopped turning to look. Something deep within her heart wouldn't let her.

If she had stopped, she would have missed it happening. Glancing up with no expectations, only to find one person she honestly hadn't anticipated. Not with the news her dad had shared with her. Yet, there he was. She'd been paralyzed with shock. Beyond disbelief. And underneath it all, she'd let the wave of love washing over her erode some of that wall she'd built. A wave that had become a flood when blue eyes settled on her. _Noticed_ her.

Sighing against her knees, Peyton pulls herself away from remembering. It's different now. She's not alone anymore, and neither is her dad. Sure, it had taken a while for that to be true. And it mostly happened at the insistence of her first visitor. But it did happen. That _has_ to mean something. She ignores the fact that maybe it doesn't.

A resounding click has her head jerking up, hoping to meet familiar blue eyes.

She does, but they're not the ones she expected to see. Puzzled, she tracks the boy's movement as he beelines to the girl on the bed, watching him heave a sigh and fiddle with her hair.

"Sawyer, how can I do my trick when you've killed the curls?" A grin tugs at Nathan's mouth. He slides his hand to clasp hers, reaching over to drag a chair closer with his free hand.

The chair she happens to be occupying. With a little squeak, she hurries out of it, darting to the side of the bed as the brunette boy takes a seat. Perching on the bed next to 'her' legs, she studies the nervous expression on his face. Smiling to herself at why he must be here. "Freaked out, Nate?" She lightly teases, not expecting an answer.

But she has to laugh at his next words. "I'm freaking out a little." A wry grin. "Okay, a lot."

Peyton nods. "I did, too. So did Lucas."

"I've only visited twice, and both times...well, this sounds crazy, but I swear I saw you. I mean, obviously, I'm seeing you, since you're here, and—but I saw...another you." He stumbles to a halt, jerking his hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't—it's like, you're...haunting yourself, or something. Does that make sense?"

"Not at all." She quips.

Before she can say anything else, he's continuing, "Anyway, I came back to... I guess to see if it happens again. Or if I'm just crazy. Lack of sleep and worry, probably." He looks around with a combination of wariness and hopefulness. She waits with bated breath. But nothing happens.

He sighs, lowering his gaze to their hands. "Probably just seeing things." Raising his eyes to 'her' face. "I also wanted—I didn't get a chance to say this earlier, so I figured now's a good time. I never said it, but...thank you."

"What?" She's perplexed, not knowing where he's taking this.

"For...being you. You know, being there for me when Haley was on tour, listening to me. Last night, we were talking about it a little, and I started thinking that I never told you your support meant a lot to me. Especially when you had your own crap going on. Made me think I suck at this stuff, 'cause I'm not doing the same for you."

He chuckles lowly, shaking his head. "So I'm here now. If you wanna talk..." he trails off and makes a face, "Or, you know, wake up."

He wiggles her hand cajolingly, an action that lends a charming air to the situation. She can't help the small laugh. "Thanks. And I'm working on it."

"People don't always leave, okay?" He turns serious, causing her to blink at him. "Remember? Sometimes they come back. You sketched that for me, about Hales. But it applies here, too. You gotta come back...we need you to, all of us."

A rush of affection flows through her for this boy. He's grown so much in this last year, living up to the potential she'd seen in him when they first started dating. She's glad she can count him as one of her friends, especially considering how bad they'd been when their relationship ended.

She watches him fondly, as he contemplates the unconscious girl. "You gotta wake up. Put some of that stubbornness to work, Peyton, 'cause I know you're strong enough to do it. And don't even try denying the stubborn streak!" He grins. "You used to yell that dating me was like beating your head against a wall, but you _still_ did it!"

His words startle another gurgle of laughter from her. He's chuckling too, when his eyes land on her. They widen, and laughter fades as he stares, the color in his face draining away. She bites her lip, waiting for the moment he shakes it away, just like before.

It doesn't come. "H—Hey." He says dumbfounded.

"Hi." She whispers back, feeling overwhelmed.

He furrows his brow, still staring. He leans in slightly, croaking out, "Are you...really..."

She nods emphatically, "Yeah. I'm here. This is happening. Really."

"I don't—I can't." He tries, blinking his eyes rapidly. His hand is shaking as he raises it to his face. It hovers there, like he's too afraid to rub at his eyes. Almost as if she'll disappear if he does. "I see you...but I...what are you trying to say?"

She raises her eyebrows and inwardly groans. Seen but not heard. However, it's more than she got with anyone else so far, and it's never a bad thing to be noticed by someone. She smiles gently and shakes her head lightly at him, indicating her words weren't vital.

He nods his head at her. "Well...just wake up, okay?"

She smiles, mouthing "I'm trying." Making sure to carefully enunciate the words, hoping it'll be easier for him to understand.

"Good." Nathan squeezes 'her' hand tightly and leans back into his chair. "You keep doing that."

Peyton wants to grin but she can't, sitting half frozen and clenching her hands together in her lap. She's freaking out. Nathan can actually see her sitting there, can actually communicate with her. And she's nervous. Scared to really move, lest it end. A tiny voice in her head screaming at her to make more of an effort instead of impersonating a rock. Another voice shouting it's all gonna end soon anyway, so why bother. She's more confused than anything, the feeling heightening with every silent moment that stretches out between them. She can feel her breath speeding, waiting for something to happen.

The last sight she sees is him opening his mouth to speak, before everything goes blank.

As the blonde sitting on the bed simply vanishes right in front of him, Nathan brings his hand to his eyes, pressing hard. Groaning, "What the _hell_?" He's freaking out. Not sure if what just happened was real or not. If his mind's playing tricks on him, hinting at something he wants to believe. That she's trying to come back, and not giving up. That she's not really gone in the sense of being unaware of them all when they talk to her. He really wants to believe she can hear them. He really wants to believe she'll be okay.

He _really_ wants to believe it's not all in his head. But maybe it is.

**0.o o_o o.0**

Lucas frowns at the little rubber basketball in his hand before hurtling it at the wall. A satisfying thunk echoes in the air as it flies back to be easily caught. If only the rest of life could be so simple. To be as predictable as the rhythm of his little game.

But it wouldn't be life if it was.

He sighs, thinking over the events that occurred earlier in the day. Specifically, Peyton. The girl who had popped into his room unannounced, and got him to dance around with her, when he _knows_ he's not much of a dancer. Besides, how humiliating would that have been, to have someone walk in when he's essentially being goofy...by himself. He rolls his eyes, barely catching the ball before it slams into his face from the force with which he'd launched it.

That's not why he's brooding right now. The reason for that is the awkward way he'd made his excuses to not go to the hospital with her and _see everyone_. He didn't want to see everyone. Especially when his emotions were so rawly exposed. Like one look at him and everyone would recognize the depth of his feelings for Peyton. Everyone except the girl who had smiled sweetly and murmured a comment about it being hard for him to see Brooke and her understanding that. The girl who suggested he spend the day with his mom and then vanished from his room before he could even attempt to correct her false assumption.

The girl who only saw him as a friend. A _great_ friend.

And he's not sure how to change that or if he should even risk it. Especially with everything else going on with both of them right now. He doesn't want to chance putting himself out there, only to lose the safety she gives him. He doesn't want to lose her from his life in any way. Hence the brooding.

A clearing of a throat has him missing his next catch, the ball bouncing off the wall next to his head. He glances at it bemusedly for a second before focusing his attention on the girl lingering in the doorway. He merely raises an eyebrow, not really in the mood to socialize.

"Hey." Her voice is timid, but she smiles.

Loosing a breath, he automatically shifts over, creating a spot next to him on the bed. "Hey."

"Sooo... can the friend thing start now?"

"Sure." Lucas narrows his eyes at the brunette, taking note of her distressed expression and self-conscious fidgeting. "Of course."

Brooke delicately lowers herself right next to him, staring at her hands. He can practically see the tension radiating off of her, sending an alarm pinging through his mind. But he doesn't get the chance to question her. She simply breaks down in tears.

He pulls her into his side, slightly discomfited and unsure how to proceed. A little anxious as to the cause of her tears. She'd spent the day visiting Peyton, so his first instinct is that something went wrong. But rationality intervenes, telling him she would've said that before asking about them being friends. So he bites back his questions and lets her cry, rubbing soothing circles on her back and gently rocking her from side to side.

When she's limply propped against him and the sniffling has ceased, he gently eases her back, exerting just enough pressure to have her facing him. She swipes at her flushed face, eyes darting everywhere except him.

Stiffening, she pulls away from his touch a little more, babbling, "Oh god. This is embarrassing. I didn't mean—I just wanted to—"

"Hey!" He interrupts, "It's okay. You don't have to apologize." He smiles at her when she finally brings her gaze to him. "Part of friendship, right?"

She sighs out a watery laugh, nodding a little, "Right. Thanks. For letting me fall apart."

"What's up?" He's curious, of course he is, but he also wants to move the conversation along. He wants to ask about Peyton, and how the visit had gone. But something tells him bringing that up now, wouldn't help the friendship thing he and Brooke are trying out.

Apparently he doesn't have to bring up the blonde. She does it. "I don't know what's taking Peyton so long to wake up. The doctors don't have any answers. I'm…_scared_, Luke."

"I know. Me, too." He slumps against the pillows behind him as she twists so she's sitting cross legged in front of him.

"You are?"

He frowns. "Of course I am! It's hard waiting. Not knowing."

She nods, studying his face intently. Almost too carefully, which makes him feel a little ill at ease. He has the absurd notion that she's trying to see straight down into his soul, trying to see something specific. But maybe she finds it, because a resigned look graces her features, before melting into a serious and brave countenance.

"Luke? Friends are honest with each other, right?"

He blinks, startled. "Yeah. I mean, I'd like to think so, for the most part. Otherwise, it'd probably be hard to call yourself friends, if you think you can't be."

Brooke quirks the corner of her mouth into a ghost of a smirk. "Good. Remember that."

"Why? What's going on?" He regards her curiously. She's not normally this nebulous when she's trying to make a point.

"Are you in love with Peyton?" The blunt question leaves him at a loss for words, dropping his gaze as he weakly gestures. He doesn't know how to answer that. Not only because he and Brooke had barely broken up themselves, but because he had just started to face that fact.

"I, um. Of course I care about her." He dodges the question, zeroing in on a different level of it.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. "Be honest,_ please_. Just do that." She sucks in a deep breath. "I'm not mad, and I won't be…I just—I only want the truth. Okay? Don't try to lie. Not now, not about this."

Still he hesitates, studying her guardedly. She stares back, eyes rimmed red, but oddly settled. That clinches it. He won't hurt her by lying now, not after their previous talk about trust. Besides, if they're really going to make an attempt at remaining friends, she'll have to know he can be honest with her. Even if she hates what he has to say.

"I am." His voice is low, but confident. His gaze steady.

He witnesses the quick flinch, and the small catch to her breathing, but she stays calm. Dark hazel eyes walled off and tearless.

He resumes, "But I need you to know that it in no way takes away from what we shared."

Her mouth compresses. "Right."

"It doesn't." He insists quietly. "It's…an entirely separate situation. Different."

"Okay." She whispers, blinking furiously. "Okay."

A quiet descends. Slightly uncomfortable. But he thinks that maybe it's the most honest quiet they've shared. There's no doubt, no anger, no lies. It's a slightly new feeling with this girl, but he figures that maybe it means they can actually make a friendship work.

"Will you do something for me?" She breaks the silence.

He focuses his eyes on her warily. "What?"

"Life's too short, you know, to waste time. You never know when s-someone might not…be there." She shudders, tears swimming into her eyes now. "I—"

"Okay." He cuts her off, not sure if he wants her to say what he thinks she's leading to. He refuses to consider the possibility of Peyton not being there.

She nods jerkily. "Yeah." A beat passes, then she slides off the bed, rising to her feet and heading straight to the door.

Lucas sits up straight, taken aback with the sudden end to their conversation. "Brooke?"

She turns around in the doorway, sending him a level stare. Her voice raspy and uneven. "I think I lied. Maybe I'm _not_ ready to be your friend yet. I just—I wanted the truth. I _needed_ to know."

He frowns, "You and Peyton—"

"Are friends." She stresses sternly. "She didn't do anything." Brooke scoffs, gazing sideways into space with a mumbled, "This time."

He pretends not to hear that. And sends a quick prayer of thanks that he'd never revealed what happened in the library that day. Grateful that Peyton still has her best friend, and that Brooke doesn't seem to be letting him get in the way of that this time. He doesn't want to. Not again.

Lucas catches her eyes and nods. "Thanks, for that."

"I'm not ready to be your friend. But I'm hers and she's mine." She shrugs. "So don't expect me to make it easy."

With that, she gives a tap to the door frame and disappears around it. He vaguely hears the front door open and close, but he sits there, mind running in different directions.

So maybe there are still a few lies between him and his ex-girlfriend. And there probably always will be. At least, as far as the situation surrounding Peyton is concerned. He won't mention the kiss, and he won't share her words with anyone. Mostly because he doesn't want to be the reason—again—that Brooke and Peyton fall apart. He doesn't want Peyton to have to feel guilty, especially since he doesn't think she did anything wrong.

He would've done the same thing if their roles had been reversed.

But he knows Peyton, knows she'd blame herself if her best friend got hurt because of this. And he knows Brooke, knows she'd let Peyton take the blame for it. And he knows that he'd probably want to help, but would only it make it worse. No, keeping it secret is the best course for everyone. Keeping it secret from Brooke. He fully intends on bringing it up to Peyton…eventually.

Sighing, Lucas runs his hand through his hair. Looking around absently, rummaging among the blankets until his hand closes around his little basketball.

Letting his thoughts scatter as he continues his rhythmic pattern of release, catch, release.

A promise not to waste time. Something that should make him want to rush to Peyton's side and confess his feelings. But it has the opposite effect at the moment. Because it brings to mind last year, when he sat on the sidelines disconnected from both Peyton and Brooke, and watched the chasm between the two widen with each day. When he saw them reconnect, but was still relegated to the sidelines.

He's scared of that happening again. Of being kicked out of her life, pushed away simply because she'll want to spare Brooke's feelings. Or because she doesn't actually love him.

That's a scarier thought. And maybe not entirely true. At least based on what she told him in the library. He's firmly planning to cling to that moment, needing to believe it's true.

He's in love with her. He needs her in his life. She already considers him a great friend.

So maybe the risk would be too much. Maybe he'd lose it all if he told her how he felt. Maybe she'd smile at him and explain that she cares about him, but is still in love with Jake. Maybe it isn't _always going to be there_…except in his head.

There's a lot of maybes. And he really just wants it to be black or white, yes or no. She loves him, or…she loves him.

Release, catch, release. If only life could be as simple.

Lucas merely curses aloud when the basketball skims his fingers and thwacks his shoulder before dropping to the blankets and rolling off the bed. Maybe he should take that as a sign.

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**A/N: For those who don't know, a Foley bag is where the catheter empties. The nurses were commenting on her liquid input/output balance. Physio is physiotherapy/physical therapy...to help prevent muscles from deteriorating while she's in a coma. Yup, that about sums up my medical knowledge for the chapter, lol.**

**Lexie: There was a little more spoiling with NP!  
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**Everyone, please let me know what you're thinking about the chapter or the story! :)  
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	11. I Sympathize That You Are, Too

**A/N: Immense apologies for disappearing like that! I have been, and will be, working an insane amount of overtime. I'm also researching schools to apply to this Fall. So I'm kind of mentally burned out... anyhow, I'm not forgetting this story! Promise. It took me a while to write this chapter, piece by piece, lol. I hope people are still interested!  
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**I don't own OTH, it's characters, anything "'triple quoted'", or the songs/lyrics used. I only own the journey they travel and all mistakes, as it's unbeta'd. **

**Chapter title comes from a lyric in "What Are You Looking For" by Sick Puppies.**

**Enjoy :)

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**Ch11: I Recognize That I Am Damaged; I Sympathize That You Are, Too.**

Sighing deeply, Lucas studies his reflection in the mirror, absently adjusting his tie. He's feeling strangely...apathetic about this whole thing. He kind of figures he should be disgusted at himself for going to _pay his respects_ to the boy who wreaked such havoc. But it's not for _him_. It's for everyone else. All the same, he's not really looking forward to the next couple of hours.

Giving up on ever straightening the knot of his tie, Lucas turns away, eyes falling onto the picture gracing his nightstand. He quickly averts his gaze, not wanting to look at the smiling family within the frame. If he does that, he'll dwell on everything that's gone wrong. Then he'll never gather the strength to actually attend the funeral. No matter who he's going for.

He mumbles under his breath, calming himself by singing the lyrics to _Lean on Me_, while he shrugs into his suit jacket, tugging it into place. One last glance in the mirror to check his appearance, before snatching his keys off the dresser and heading for the kitchen.

His mom's in there, absently tearing bites from a bagel as she leans against the sink, staring out the window. He watches her shake out of her daze, turning and focusing her attention on him with a small smile. One that fades into confusion and unease when her gaze travels over his form.

She frowns, "'What are you doing?'"

"'It's what Keith would have wanted.'" The obvious reason comes to his lips, making him grimace. Probably not the best way to say it. "It's the—"

"'Absolutely not.'" She shakes her head repeatedly, cluing in to the situation. "'You go to your room and you change.'"

Her voice is mostly calm, but he can see the utter despair in her eyes. It urges him across the room, to catch her hand in his. Making sure to look directly in her eyes. "It's for Mouth. And Mrs. Edwards. And...and the guys."

He watches her compress her mouth as she holds his gaze. Her grip tightens on his hand, and the head shaking slowly turns into a soft nodding. She gives him a tremulous smile.

He nods, too. "It's...important."

"'He did a good a job with you.'" She reaffirms her words from yesterday, moving gracefully to wrap him in a hug. He locks his arms around her and lowers his head to her shoulder, closing his eyes. It really is something Keith himself would have done in this situation. It's really not solely about the boy who's being buried today.

But it doesn't mean it isn't hard.

Pulling away with a sigh, Lucas meets his mom's eyes again. She lightly brings her hand up to cup his jaw for a moment before stepping away fully. She stares down at the bagel-half still clutched in her fingers, then raises her head again. "I—I can't..."

"I know." And he does. That would be just too much to ask of anyone in her shoes.

She gifts him with one more sad smile before taking her leave, passing him with a soft touch to his arm. He watches as she carefully shuts the bedroom door behind her and he knows it's probably not going to be a good morning this time.

Taking a deep breath, Lucas reaches for the coffee, distantly noting the slight tremor of his hands as he fixes a mug for himself. But once he has it, he can't bring himself to actually drink it, his stomach knotting up at the thought of consuming anything. Restless, he empties the liquid in the sink, deciding to just _go_ already.

-x-

It doesn't take long to pick up the rest of the guys; Mouth, Skillz, Junk and Fergie. Most of the boys he'd grown up with, laughed with, played with, and learned with. He doesn't know how one of them managed to get so lost. He's feeling a little lost, too. Anxious to get there, anxious to stay away. Wanting to get it done with, and wanting to not have to go at all. He's a mass of tension, gripping the steering wheel until the knuckles on his hands turn white. Extremely grateful for the silence that envelops the car, with none of the guys knowing what to say to one another.

Lucas is also anxious for another reason. He hasn't seen or heard from Peyton since yesterday morning. He'd expected her to show up in his room again last night, at least long enough to make arrangements for today. He has no clue how she's getting there. When she's getting there. If she's still going there. And he's worried. For a lot of reasons.

They arrive at the cemetery in what feels like the blink of an eye, and he's standing outside the car almost before he knows it. The five of them are awkwardly trying not to stare at each other. He figures no one else wants to be the first person to make a move towards the casket they know awaits them just over the hill. He _knows_ he doesn't. But with a firm shake of his resolve, he does. It's what Keith would have expected from him. And it's not as hard as he'd imagined it would be. Not with his friends by his side, and the sight that meets his eyes when he crests the hill.

Mary Edwards. The _only_ person standing next to a simple coffin covered with an array of flowers. A small woman, hunched against the solitude of her grief. It's enough to break his heart. And justify all his reasons for showing up today.

He doesn't hesitate to pull her into his arms, feeling the slight trembles overtaking her, hearing her breathing become more shallow and uneven. Noticing the tears in her eyes when she pulls back, contrasting with her relieved smile as she takes in their little group. Boys she had watched grow up with her son. Boys who now surround her in a show of support, offering hugs and hands to hold as she buries her own boy.

Lucas stands off to the side a little as the group faces the casket, surreptitiously looking around for Peyton. It's already a few minutes after eight, and it's not like her to go back on her word. Worry increases, causing him to tense a little more. It's apparently obvious to Fergie, standing right beside him, because his friend pats his shoulder supportively and lowly asks if he's okay. A quick nod satisfies the other boy, who goes back to giving his attention to the minister talking to Mary. The services are just about to start, since it appears everyone who's coming is here.

Everyone but Peyton. Which is why he's still looking.

He's unmindful of the small sigh that escapes, as he literally feels his body relax when he clocks her sudden presence a few feet away. Only to have his next breath catch in his throat when he takes the moment to study her. Her expression looks haunted, eyes wide and dark in a drawn face. She's hugging herself tightly, solemnly staring at the coffin as she edges closer to the small group of people standing beside it. She looks small...and fragile. _Young_, in her outfit of jeans, converse, and black band Tee over a long sleeved white shirt.

The same outfit she was wearing _that_ day. The day she was shot. By the boy they're burying.

The acrid taste of bile stings at the back of his throat when the thought registers. He chokes it down, a light sheen of sweat coating his skin, fisting one hand within the pocket of his trousers. Trying to physically hold himself together.

He's the one who asked her to come. For moral support. Lucas can't believe it hadn't crossed his mind what this could do to her. He can't believe he acted so selfishly, as to not consider how hard this might be on her. Especially since she's not even _really_ there. She's still in a coma. In no position whatsoever to say she's not affected.

But she still came. Because he asked her too.

And it would be a lie to say that fact isn't already helping him through this.

"Hi." She whispers when she reaches his side. He catches her eyes briefly before she averts them. "Sorry I'm late."

She says nothing else, choosing to instead stand close by him and keep her attention on the minister, who's speaking of reflection and strength. Lucas wants nothing more than to ask if she's okay, but he can't even get her to look at him. And he can't try too hard or too obviously since as far as anyone else is aware, she's not there. He thinks maybe that's why she's keeping her gaze fixed on a point well beyond the casket, and why her posture is beyond rigid. She doesn't _want_ to look at him. Probably because he asked this of her.

It hurts his head to think about it. It hurts his heart to feel it. So he focuses on Mary Edwards, getting through the funeral, and mentally preparing words to say to Peyton once this is all over.

**0.o o_o o.0**

Peyton stands there next to Lucas, arms wrapped around her torso for comfort. She needs it.

She vaguely feels bad and a little guilty. The main reason she's here is to support Lucas as he deals with facing this particular funeral. But there are so many thoughts and emotions crowding her mind, that she's not paying attention to him at all. She's only thinking about her own situation right now.

She snapped back into reality this morning to realize she'd lost almost another full day. And Nathan had seen her. A nurse pitied her...and brought up everything Peyton had been trying not to remember. One good day shouldn't be enough to counteract an entire week of bad days. Right? And the words from one nurse shouldn't be enough to send a flood of misery through her. But they did. Those words reminded her of the endless hours of being alone. She'd managed to comfort herself a little with the thought that people at least cared enough to send flowers, even if they didn't visit. At least she wasn't forgotten.

But apparently she _was_.

And it _hurt_ to face that. So she didn't. She let herself get distracted, in a good way, by Nathan's arrival. His timing couldn't have been more perfect. It was like a lifesaver thrown to her just when she started to drown. And his words had soothed. Because maybe _she_ wasn't forgotten, but rather, _everything_ was pushed to backburners as people dealt with the aftermath of tragedy. She could be okay with that. She could move on from that point. Her friends loved her, cared about what happened, and were rooting for her to wake up.

And then Nathan saw her. It should have been a sign of hope. It should have been something to celebrate, something to decipher in a conversation with Lucas, something to try repeating. But she'd let fear and uncertainty creep in and ruin it. She'd froze. And before she could do anything else, she'd blanked out.

When she came back, she hadn't had time to question anything, hadn't had time to check in on anyone, hadn't had time to explore her own damn emotions. She'd barely had time to note the hour on the clock and think herself to Lucas for the funeral. Not that she's paying any attention in the slightest.

Sighing, she ignores Lucas' attempts to draw her gaze. The minister is droning on about paths and God; nice words about a boy she doesn't know. Peyton frowns suddenly, the words of the minister breaking through her fog to wash over her, eyes narrowing on a blood-red carnation visible in the array of flowers gracing the casket.

_Lives touch each other, souls walk along some of the same paths, as we figure out the life we're given._ _We're only men. We make mistakes. But that is for the Lord to lay judgment upon, for the Lord to forgive. For us, as men created in his image, to find the strength to forgive. That is the only way to free our souls to walk the best paths through this life as we journey home_.

Scenes like something out of a horror movie find their way into her head. The dark puddle of red, widening steadily. The gun held in a shaky hand. The painful crawl into the deserted library. The cold fear of dying alone, the slice of relief at seeing a familiar face. The sound of echoing screams of chaos ringing in the halls. The utter desolateness and empty misery in the eyes of a boy she never knew. And will never know.

She'd told Lucas, in the library, that Jimmy had just looked scared. That's the memory most vivid. Her last and most memorable sight of the boy was the horrified expression that appeared as soon as the gun went off. Right before a burning sensation had taken over her being. She hadn't thought too much about it after that.

She's thinking about it now.

Peyton knows about the darkness. Knows how easy it is to just keep falling into the black pit of hopelessness. The effort it takes to merely hold on when letting go is so inviting. However, she's always managed to climb back out. She's never fallen so far, doesn't know what rock bottom looks like. Not really.

She'd had her dad and best friend when her mom died. She'd had Lucas on the first anniversary of her mother's death that she was old enough to drive during. Sure, she'd also had a period when she spiraled so far down, she'd almost gotten herself hooked on drugs. But she'd had Jenny and Jake to help pull her back, as well as the knowledge that her mom would've wanted better for her. She'd had her dad and Lucas when she found out she was adopted. She'd had Brooke and Lucas when she lost her newly found mother to breast cancer. And she'd had Lucas when she was bleeding out in the library.

As much as she may say she's a loner, she's never really been _alone_. And it's just now fully sinking in, as she lets her mind freely wonder about Jimmy.

If she's being honest, she doesn't remember the boy. She doesn't know how long they've gone to school together or what classes they might've shared. She only ever became aware of him when she met Lucas and all of his friends. But even then, she apparently never noticed when he'd faded away from the rest of them. She wonders how many other kids are basically thinking the same thing. That the only way they'll ever know Jimmy Edwards is by his last, desperate actions.

She takes a peek at Lucas from under her lashes, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. His brow is marred with a deep frown, and his gaze is intently focused. Following it, she can barely make out a spot in the distance, one she knows fairly well. It's near where her mom rests. It's where Keith can be found. A spot Peyton doesn't think Luke's visited yet.

A low whimper draws her attention away from him, bringing it to the small woman amidst the teenaged boys. And her heart goes out to her. For having lost her only child, her only family. For having it occur under such a black cloud of anger, pain, and uncertainty. She only hopes that Mrs. Edwards will be able to focus on everything good about her son, and not let the 'before' be tainted by the ending. But she knows that just might be one of the most difficult paths to walk. It had taken her a long time to be able to smile about a memory of her mom, and not immediately think about the car accident or aftermath.

Peyton's gaze roams from face to face of that small group. She's oddly proud of all five boys, being a source of strength for each other and the mother of their lost friend. She doesn't know either Junk or Fergie all that well yet, and only had handfuls of conversations with both Skillz and Mouth, but she can see hints of the men they could grow up to be. Same with Lucas. Decent men. Caring men. Strong, to attend this service despite any ill feelings regarding what Jimmy had done.

Is it any wonder she fell in love with one of them?

She sneaks another quick look at Lucas, who still has his focus on some far off point, before tuning back into the services. She can't help comparing it to the only other one she's ever attended. Her mom's. Then, there had been a sea of people she'd gotten lost in. All of them stopping to say nice things to her and her dad about Anna. Things that had hurt to hear at the time, because she'd been old enough to know they'd never happen again. She'd spent that funeral trying to _feel_ her mom there, and wondering if her mom was watching it all play out. Trying to avoid looking at the people crying, or the ones who hadn't personally known her mom, but came to support someone. Like her dad's new boss, who met both Peyton and Anna only once, when they surprised Larry at the docks. Her eyes had accidentally met his during the service, and he'd looked uncomfortably back before jerking his gaze away.

For some reason, that last memory has her feeling somewhat grateful that no one knows she's here. That she's not _actually_ standing next to Lucas, impinging on something important to Mrs. Edwards. That the woman won't have to feel uneasy by an unfamiliar face.

Taking in the six people standing there, Peyton's also absurdly relieved. Because there isn't a crowd gathered in morbid fascination, or false sympathy, or in a show of disapproval. Relieved that Mrs. Edwards' grief can be honestly expressed, and that the people who _did_ come, came because they care about her. And had cared about her son.

And because she doesn't really fit into either category, Peyton slowly eases herself away, starting to feel uncomfortable by her own presence. Her movement attracts Lucas' attention, but she simply tilts her head in the direction of her mom's headstone. Something flashes in his eyes, but he nods infinitesimally anyway. She gives him a small smile, before turning and striding over to her mom. Self disgust laps at her feet with every step away from him. She's supposed to be here to support him, but she's practically running away from her own discomfort.

She's hoping he'll understand once she explains it to him. And that he won't hold it against her.

Dropping into a cross-legged position in front of her mom's headstone, Peyton sighs, turning back to look towards Jimmy's services. Once they're over, she'll talk to Lucas. About a lot of things.

**0.o o_o o.0**

Lucas watches Peyton speed-walk away from him with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

He was right. He asked too much, wanting her to be here, and now she's hurting. And the thought of that is hurting him. He only hopes he can fix this for her.

He gives his attention back to the minister when the man states a final _amen_. Mary, hand clutched tightly within Mouth's, hoarsely thanks the minister as two more suited men step forward to begin lowering the casket. Lucas tries not to watch, tries not to think about a goofy kid with a funky sense of humor. Tries not to let his last image of Jimmy form in his mind; a panicky, angry kid who'd leveled a gun at him...and then his uncle.

Swallowing against the lump in his throat and discarding the thoughts in his head, Lucas becomes aware of the hand on his arm. Looking down into the teary eyes of Mary, who offers him a wobbly smile.

"Lucas." Her voice is thin, strained. "Thank you."

He nods and gently enfolds her in his arms again. "If you need anything..."

She nods against his chest, hiding there for a moment. When she does step back, he can see the nervousness and despair in her eyes. "I'm—" She cuts herself off with a choked sound, but meets his eyes straight on. "I'm sorry."

"I know." He murmurs softly. "Me, too."

And for now, that says all either of them needs to hear. The nervousness dissipates and relief swims into her eyes. He's a little relieved as well. Being here, facing her, isn't as hard as he'd feared. Mary gives him one last tremulous smile and briefly touches his arm before moving towards Fergie.

"Um, Luke?"

He turns around to find Mouth shifting on his feet. "Hey. You holding up?"

"Yeah." His friend nods. "I just..."

"Yeah." Lucas interrupts, not needing to hear another thanks. "And listen, I'm sorry about the other day. I guess I wasn't really listening."

A small smile is his response. "Or maybe I wasn't really explaining it that well."

"Or that." Lucas concedes with a quick grin.

"Yeah." Mouth says on a puff of breath. "But thanks. For still having my back, you know?"

He only nods. It's what they all promised, years ago. And in a lot of ways, he figures that promise will probably be more tended to in the future. As long as they still have a memory of a time it wasn't completely kept.

"I'm, um, going to go home with Mary. She wants to talk." Mouth tells him, turning his head to watch the woman in question as she's pulled into the arms of Junk.

Lucas shoves his hands in his pockets. "Okay. I'll talk to you later?"

"Of course." Mouth gives him a smile before walking over to the two people speaking in low tones.

Sucking in a deep breath, Lucas scans the cemetery for a moment, contemplating his next actions. He jiggles his hands in his pockets before pulling out his keys and approaching Skillz, who's standing slightly apart from everyone.

"Hey dawg." His friend greets him. "You solid?"

"Yeah, man. I am, actually." Lucas quirks the corner of his lips in a hint of a smile. "You?"

Skillz nods. "Yeah. Sad, you know? For Mary. But I'll be okay."

"Listen, man." Lucas starts, holding out his keys towards his friend, "I think I'm going to stick around here for a bit. Can you take the guys home?"

The other boy gives him an assessing look. "Hang here? Why? Gonna visit Keith?"

"Dunno." Lucas shrugs. Actually, he plans on talking to Peyton. And he can't do that with anyone else around. "I just need to...think about some things."

"How you gettin' home?" Skillz asks with a raised eyebrow.

Lucas makes a face. He hadn't really thought that far ahead. "I might clear my head, take a walk."

"In those shoes?" Skillz scoffs, pointedly looking down at Lucas' feet. "You want us to wait, man?"

"No, you guys go ahead." Lucas shakes his head. "I don't know how long I'm gonna be here. But if I want a ride, I'll call you, okay?"

Finally taking the keys Lucas offers again, Skillz nods. "Okay. Look, dawg, if you need anything, I got yo' back."

He offers his fist, which Lucas nudges his knuckles against with a genuine smile. "Ditto."

Lucas watches his friend nod at him once, and start walking away. Only to turn around after a few feet. "Man, I be waitin' for a call! Guy whit those shoes don't walk. Unless you don't wanna walk tomorrow!"

He rolls his eyes at Skillz's exaggerated wince of pain as the other boy grins at him before spinning towards their friends, calling for Junk and Fergie. Lucas lightly shakes his head when he overhears them making plans to_ test his ride_. But it makes him smile, that his friends can still act like themselves, despite everything they've been going through recently. Now he just has to make sure another friend is able to be herself.

He can just make her out, sitting underneath a tree near her mom's headstone. Feeling nervous, he mentally scrolls through a list of 'safe' topics to start a conversation. He figures they should ease into the heavy stuff. But for some reason, he's hesitant to approach her. He still feels a little exposed; not only from the emotional toll of Jimmy's funeral, but also because of his feelings for Peyton. He still hasn't really decided what to do about those. Still scared of them not being returned. Still wary of it being too soon, since she's going through a lot emotionally. They both are, really.

Unsure and unusually timid, Lucas starts meandering to where Peyton sits. Slowly. He's intent on his destination, knowing exactly where he's going, but not knowing what's going to happen when he gets there. So he almost doesn't want to get there. At least, not without some more time to come up with an apology worthy of what he made her do.

He catches a movement from the corner of his eye and he's almost relieved to have the distraction.

"Lucas."

"Coach." He greets the older man, clasping the proffered hand for a moment. Taking in the man's dark suit and tie, he gestures towards the outfit in a silent question.

Whitey smiles softly, sadly. "It's a good thing you did today. You and your friends."

Lucas acknowledges that with an absent nod, wrinkling his brow, perplexed. "Did you...?"

The coach sighs, starting to stroll in the direction Lucas had been heading. The blonde teen narrows his eyes at the non answer, and falls into step with the other man. He lets the quiet linger, hoping to avoid being the one to fill it.

"It's not...a usual set of circumstances. I wasn't sure what might happen today, so I'd thought I'd be on hand."

Lucas looks at him, folding his arms over his chest. "On hand for what?"

"If something happened that Mary Edwards might have needed help dealing with. Or if _nothing_ happened." Whitey sighs deeply. "No one should have to stand alone. It makes it that much harder to heal."

"Yeah." Lucas slides a discreet look over to the girl who basically told him the same thing, and gave him a nudge in a better direction. "That's the reasoning behind this morning. Even though I wasn't sure I could, because of—" He cuts himself off, not wanting to say it out loud. Instead, he moves his gaze to the man beside him, who's staring at his feet, carefully measuring his steps.

"'I've been meaning to talk to you. Truth of the matter is, I've been too busy. Crying...like a baby.'" Whitey raises his head, focusing on Lucas.

The blonde nods, giving a saddened version of a sheepish shrug, dropping his arms to his sides. "Me, too. Basically."

"Nothing wrong with that." The coach murmurs on a long exhale.

There's silence then, as both males unconsciously slow their steps even more. Lucas concentrates on the ground in front of him, swallowing against the lump forming in his throat. The topic of Keith always does that to him. And he's not sure how to make that stop. Not sure if he ever _wants_ it to stop. He knows it's not an entirely rational thought, but he can't help believing that if that feeling ever did stop, it would mean his memories of Keith weren't as strong anymore. That Keith would fade away, far out of his reach forever.

"'I'm gonna tell you something. When my wife...died, things got pretty dark there for a while. Nobody could talk to me. And then, one of my former players...waded into that darkness and pulled me to safety.'" Whitey takes a moment for a watery smile aimed Lucas' way. "'Kid's name was Keith Scott. He said 'Coach, I know you want some answers, but what's the right answer? Because there are no answers. There's just life.''"

Lucas simply nods, swallowing convulsively, vision blurring slightly. A beat of silence falls before Whitey continues, "'He was the man that influenced your life more than anyone else. I saw it in you everyday.' I saw it in you this morning."

The older man places his hand on Lucas' shoulder, a small weight that feels oddly comforting. Another person who loved Keith, who could see him in the boy he helped raise. And if people could see it, then that must mean it's there. Even when Lucas himself can't quite recognize it most of the time.

"Thank you." He barely manages the whisper, but it's a contented one. Having people...it really does help.

Whitey nods, patting his back before dropping his hand back to his side. "I remember what it meant to have someone care enough to fight for me after I lost Camilla. I thought Mrs. Edwards could use that, too. So I came, and I waited. And just when I thought there really would be no one...there you boys were. Better, I think, to have someone who knows and cares, than someone with good intentions."

"Yeah. I guess so." Lucas sighs. Repeating words told to him, "People shouldn't be punished for the actions of those they loved. She...and the rest of the guys—they deserve to grieve, and be supported as they do it."

Whitey reaches out, placing his hand on Lucas' arm, halting his slow steps and turning the boy to fully face him. "I'm proud of you. And the man who was your _father_ in _every way_ would be, too. You just keep being 'the man Keith taught you to be. Anything less will make this a much greater tragedy than it already is.'"

He doesn't have any words. Nothing to fight past the lump that's only gotten bigger, nothing to stem the emotion. And in an odd twist, those words help give him that much needed conviction to talk to Peyton. Another person who's teaching him to be a good man, as those were _her_ words he just spoke. He looks over at her again, seeing her lean back against the tree and say something skyward.

He's not aware that Whitey's gaze has followed his own, in the general direction of Anna Sawyer's headstone, until the older man speaks. "I sent flowers on behalf of the school." It's an abrupt sentence, that has Lucas startling as his coach continues, "I haven't really visited, because I didn't want to interfere. But when I called yesterday, there wasn't any change with Peyton Sawyer."

"No. None at all, really." Lucas breathes out tiredly. "We've all been waiting. It's...hard."

Whitey nods. "But the girl's a fighter." He gives a small, crooked grin as his eyes meet the younger boy's blue ones. "She has to be, to have dated your brother back when he was a jackass."

Lucas gives a scoffing laugh, caught off guard by the man's candor. But he has to agree, nodding. Looking at her now, he thinks she's gotten so much stronger since then. She'll make it past this, too. She has to.

**0.o o_o o.0**

Peyton looks over her shoulder, catching sight of Lucas chuckling with Whitey, something that makes her smile. It's good to see Lucas doing okay, especially after the way she practically abandoned him this morning. Her smile fades, and she shifts her position, bringing her knees up to hug against her chest. Sighing aloud, "I'm kinda sucking as a friend today, mom."

She closes her eyes, taking in the calming quiet surrounding her. Waiting for Lucas to come to her. It hadn't escaped her notice that he'd taken his time heading her way this morning. And as much as it stung, she can't really blame him for that.

At the sound of someone seating himself next to her, Peyton opens her eyes and turns her head in his direction. There's peace lurking in his eyes. Along with worry, kindness, sadness, and a little bit of something she can't quite decipher. "Hey."

"Hey." He murmurs back with a soft smile.

A brief pause descends over them.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry."

They both speak at the same time, stopping to regard each other in stunned surprise.

"Why—" she starts, shocked, but he interrupts.

"For asking you to come to the funeral of the boy who—after—" He winces, "While you're suffering through a coma and..._this_."

"No!" Her horror grows when she realizes where his head's at. "No! That's not—I didn't even—it's not that." She falters to a stop, staring at him pleadingly.

He furrows his brows, raising his knees and resting his arms upon them. "You came here for me, Peyton. Because I asked for your support. To the funeral of—"

"It's not that, Luke." She protests earnestly. "It's...a lot of other stuff. But _I'm_ sorry. For not being there for you like I said I would. I know today had to have been hard on you."

Lucas shrugs that away. "Not as bad as I was thinking it would be. Actually, it's been a little..._healing_ for me, too." He smiles lightly. "And you were right. About Mary and Mouth...all of it."

"That's me, always right." She jokes with a tiny grin, feeling so relieved that he's not angry. Not blaming her for what she hadn't done.

He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah." He then grins, "Another thing you learned from me, right?"

She smiles and shakes her head. Leaning her head back against the tree and staring into space a little. "What happened with Whitey?"

"Just talked, a little. About Keith, about Mary...you."

"Me?" She's a little startled. And curious. He nods and leans back against the tree as well, stretching his legs out in front of him. But he doesn't say anything, at least not fast enough to satisfy her need to know. "About what?"

"He says you're a fighter. And he's called the hospital for updates." Lucas rolls his head to the side, facing her. "And he sent you flowers."

She bites her lip, suddenly feeling more vulnerable than she had a second ago. "He did?"

"Yeah, I guess so." He eyes her curiously. "Peyton? What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie." He pushes away from the tree, shifting to a cross-legged position and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He drops his head for a moment, before focusing on her. "Talk to me."

Heaving a sigh, she clambers to her feet, earning a small glare from the blonde male. Peyton gives him a weak smile, seating herself directly across from him. This way, she can see his face clearer. And any passersby won't find it strange to see a guy talking to himself and constantly looking sideways at nothing. "Yesterday morning, some nurses came in to check vitals and stuff. You know? They were...talking about me, a little."

He squints at her when she stops there. Rolling her eyes she continues, "They _feel sorry_ for me! And I hate that. One nurse, she kept saying that I'm all alone, and no one would notice if they moved me, and—she sends me flowers, Luke! Because no one else does."

She sees him jerk back slightly before guilt floods his eyes. Letting out an agitated breath, she speaks before he can open his mouth. "Don't. Don't feel bad about the flower thing, because I'm actually okay with that part of it now. Mostly. It hurt, it did, to feel...forgotten—"

"God, Peyton!" Lucas interjects heatedly. "You were _never_ forgotten! Not by any of us. And I'm _so_ sorry you felt that way."

The devastated look etched on his features almost makes her want to cry. "Ugh!" She huffs out, pressing her hands over her eyes, then jerking them through her hair. "No, its—I'm not explaining it right."

"Okay." He says, sending her a cautious ghost of a smile. "So, try again."

She scrunches her face at him, gathering her thoughts. "Okay, so it's like this. At first, I felt...alone. Then everyone started coming to visit, and I found out I could leave..." She shrugs lightly. "I...felt better, you know? Because people do care. Sometimes things happen that make that...that _aloneness_ overwhelm me again, but then something happens to change that."

Peyton eyes him hopefully. His blank look clearly states he's still a little confused. "Well, yesterday, after the nurses left, Nathan came by. He saw me—"

"Whoa!" Lucas sits up. "Peyton! Why didn't you say anything earlier?"

"When?" She counters, "When you were surrounded by people?"

He waves her words away. "He saw you? What happened?"

"Just that." She explains flippantly, not ready to share how intense it had felt to her. "He _saw_ me, but he couldn't _hear_ me when I tried talking to him. And it was only for a second."

"Oh, Peyton." He breathes, softly. Eyes so very compassionate, that it slightly angers her. She used to have shields in place against everyone, but somehow this boy manages to slither past all of them. And he _expects_ things from her. Things she's not sure she wants to share with him, but she finds difficult to _not _share. Like the intensity of yesterday.

Glaring at him a little, she expands, "It's happened before, during odd moments."

"I remember. You told me that he just shook it off like he imagined something." Lucas breaks in.

She nods. "But yesterday was different. It lasted longer, and it was...intense."

The boy in front of her furrows his brow for a moment, squinting into space as he thinks. She wonders if it's inappropriate to notice how great he looks doing that. He focuses on her again, "What was happening right before he was able to see you?"

Shrugging, not sure what he's expecting, she answers without much thought. "He was telling my unconscious self that I helped him before, and now he's here to help me. It got a little serious and emotional." She smiles to herself, voice dropping into a low tone. "Made me proud, you know? To see the boy he's growing up to be, how far he's come in just this last year."

"Emotional?" He mumbles to himself, eyes darkening to a deep blue.

She nods warily.

"When that happened..." He trails off, shaking his head lightly. "I don't really know the questions to be asking here."

"Questions for what? Narrow it down for me."

"For why Nathan and I can see you, even though his is apparently limited. But no one else can. You'd expect if it was an emotional thing, than your dad or Brooke would top the list. Right?"

They both fall silent, just staring at each other. But it gives her food for thought. She'd questioned it a little bit when Lucas first started to interact with her, but she had simply brushed the issue aside as unimportant. Now she's wondering if it really does mean something. Because she knows something Lucas doesn't. She knows that she's in love with him. She knows that she trusts him more than most, and that he was the first person to break down her defenses. She has never been able to keep them up for long around him.

She's not completely sure why Nathan can see her, but by this logic she can only assume it has something to do with letting him in emotionally during their talk yesterday. And maybe something to do with him believing in her, too.

Peyton breaks the silence. "The other day, you said you trusted me to understand where you're coming from, remember?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I trust you that way, too."

The smile he offers makes her heart thud in her chest and causes her to briefly avert her eyes from his. She needs the tiny break, to lessen her emotional rush. When she brings her attention back to him, he's nodding absently. "Well, that can explain me and you, I think." He flashes her another one of those grins. "Thank you. For letting me in."

If she could blush, she probably would. She bites her lip and gestures halfheartedly. "You, too."

He huffs out a barely audible laugh. A beat of silence, before he asks soberly, "What about Brooke?"

"I don't know." She shrugs, tangling her hands together in her lap. Having an idea, but not wanting to say it out loud. "This...situation, has kind of made me see that Brooke and I have some things to work out. I mean, I love her, don't get me wrong, but maybe I—I don't know, maybe I keep stuff to myself. And she does, too."

He narrows his eyes at her. "Like what?"

"Stuff." The finality of her tone indicating her unwillingness to talk about it.

He holds his stare for a moment longer, before sighing and leaning back against the tree, blue eyes still on her. "That explains your dad, too."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you keeping things to yourself there, blondie." He raises his eyebrow at her. "Lying emails ring a bell?"

"Dude, shut up!" She cries, half astonished, half embarrassed. It brings up all sorts of things from last year. Mostly how much a lot of people didn't know about her. She groans, "If I actually told my dad half the stuff I've done, I'd be deader than dead!"

Maybe that's not the best word choice given the situation. Lucas' expression falls and his jaw clenches. She just knots her hands tighter, letting the taunt stillness surround them. It becomes like a contest, which one of them will be the first to slice the tension.

It's Lucas. He tilts his head back, essentially addressing the sky. "So, you must have let Nate in?"

"I guess so. It really wasn't a conscious thing." She's just relieved he decided not to dwell on her words. "And anyway, Like I said, it didn't last all that long. One minute he was seeing me, the next I blanked out."

"Again?" His voice raises to a half-shout, sending a dart of worry through her. She sits up straight, craning her neck to see if anyone noticed his outburst. He levels an annoyed look at her. "Stop that. No one's here. And anyway, that's not the important part. _Why_ do you wait so long to tell me the important things?"

"It's not like I do it on purpose." She retorts, sarcastically. "Oh, let me just twiddle my thumbs and think of ways to annoy Lucas!"

"Or mangle your hands," he brings his up in front of his face, twisting them together in a mocking demonstration. "And just keep vital information to yourself."

She scoffs, throwing her own hands in the air, "Pot, meet kettle!"

He glares at her, eyes narrowed to mere slits. She scowls back, crossing her arms over her chest.

He growls, practically throwing himself back to slouch against the tree again. "This is stupid." He heaves a sigh, running his fingers through his hair, leaving it mussed. "You blanked out..."

"Until right before I popped up here with you." She fills in, biting her lip. "It was a long time again."

"Damn." He whispers, aghast. She completely agrees with the sentiment. "What set it off this time?"

She shrugs, not really sure. "It happened right after Nate saw me. I got scared, kinda, then...sort of froze. Then I was back, staring at a clock that said I was late."

"Is that why you looked so...fragile this morning?"

Peyton makes a face, not liking that descriptor. "I did _not_ look _fragile_. Scared maybe, or even vulnerable. But I'm not breakable, Luke."

"_Okay_." He concedes at her fierce tone. Raising his palms towards her in surrender. "Scared, then."

She lets out a slow breath. "I guess—I think maybe it _is_ scary. I mean, it's happening more often and for longer periods of time. I'm afraid...that one time, I just might not come back."

He holds her gaze for a second before dropping his face into his hands. She aches to reach out and touch him, comfort him. And herself, too. She wants to be held, _needs_ to feel safe.

**0.o o_o o.0**

He keeps his face buried in his hands for a moment. Needing to literally hide from her words, unable to look at her with them echoing in the air between them. He doesn't want to think like that. He doesn't want _her_ to think like that. Mostly, he just wants her coma to end, so he can wrap her in his arms and _feel_ her...safe and alive, next to him.

Instead of next to him in only...spirit.

A hesitant mumble of "Luke?" has him emerging from his safe little hole of denial. To look into wide emerald eyes, searching his face for some form of hope. And it scares him that he might not be able to give it to her.

"Peyton..." That's all he can manage for a moment, taking a deep breath to continue, "_Don't_ think that way, okay? It could be something totally different. I dunno—like, maybe a—a reconnection. Maybe the emotional stuff sets it off. Maybe it's you trying to wake up or something."

"Or something." She shakes her head at him. "Be realistic, Luke. Things never seem to turn out that way in real life."

He snaps his mouth shut, giving himself a moment to push back the surge of anger her attitude evokes. "Oh, well with _that_ outlook, I can see why."

She rears back in shock like he just slapped her. And he's thinking that maybe she needs one. "You've always been a fighter Peyton, as long as I've known you. But you also have this..._dumb_ habit of wallowing in the bad stuff."

When she opens her mouth to speak, he raises his voice to talk over her, "And I know, I do it, too sometimes. But you _need_ to _stop_. Especially when it's this serious!"

She runs her hand over her hair, looking like she wants to cry. He's suddenly glad that she can't, because he's not sure he'd be able to handle tears right now.

"I am trying." She whispers.

"So try harder." He murmurs back, capturing her gaze with his. "Don't you _dare_ give up on yourself. No one else is."

And that sea of green, darkens. Her lips wobble and her shoulders start shaking. A strangled sob erupts from deep in her chest, as she folds into herself, hiding her face from his view. Watching her crumble brings tears to his eyes. She looks so utterly _broken_ huddled into a small ball of emotional turmoil. So alone, so far out of his reach.

Her image blurs in front of him, and he's terrified for a moment, until realizing it's due to tears and not something with her situation. He doesn't know how to help her. The only thing he can think of is to give her what she gives to him. Strength. He just hopes he does. Because having someone does help. He _knows_ it does. She just has to know it, too.

Almost before he's aware of doing it, words pass his lips in a rythmic fall. "Lean on me when you're not strong/and I'll be your friend..."

And strangled cries morph into strangled, muted, chuckles. He watches her raise green eyes to meet his. And she offers him a tremulous smile. One that makes his heart flip in his chest. He smiles back, lowering his voice to barely above a whisper. "It's a _fight_ song for a reason. And it works both ways, okay?"

"Okay." She agrees, scrubbing a hand over dry eyes. She heaves a deep sigh, uncurling her body and stretching out her legs.

When she opens her mouth to speak, he interrupts. "And don't apologize! I think...part of being strong is letting go sometimes."

She gives him a sheepish look. "Sorry." At his face, she grins, "No! I didn't mean for...letting go, but for _going_ to apologize for that."

He raises his eyebrow in disbelief. "There's no winning with you, is there?"

"Not at all." She teases, before turning a little serious. "Thank you. For being here."

"Anytime." And he wonders if maybe this is a good time to tell her he's in love with her. To explain that he won't let her give up on herself because he needs her as well. That he can't imagine a world without her in it. To not have her standing by his side teaching him to understand something bigger than himself. To not have her give him words to lend strength to his beliefs. To not have her smile to give him hope that tomorrow will be a better day.

"Luke!"

They both turn at the call, seeing Skillz striding towards them. Peyton clambers to her feet, Lucas following suit and mentally cursing his friend's timing.

"Hey, dawg." Skillz stops next to the him, offering a quick hand clasp. "You okay?"

"Um, yeah." Lucas answers. "What's up?"

His friend looks at him like he's just sprouted a second head. "Man, you sure you doin' okay? You've been here forever...I mean, your car even ran outta gas."

A muffled snicker from the blonde by his side has Lucas compressing his own mouth to stem the scoff. He shrugs in response to Skillz's statement, answering the question and letting the gas thing slide. Just this once.

"Listen, dawg, Junk got his mom's car." He pulls out Lucas' keys. "So you got a way home."

"Thanks." Lucas takes the keys and smiles at the other boy. "For driving it back for me."

Skillz nods, then launches into a an excited monologue of what the car can do. Lucas tries to pretend interest, but his attention is focused on the girl starting to edge away.

"Luke, I'm gonna head out, okay?" She gives a little wave. "Check on my dad."

Before he can even think about protesting, she vanishes. He really wants to curse, but he can't. It'd be unwarranted, as far as Skillz's concern, since he's only telling Lucas about the ability of his car to round corners on two wheels. So he just smiles and nods.

He'll tell her how he feels later. When emotions aren't so mixed together and when people can't walk up to interrupt.

And he fully plans on telling her again, when she's not in a coma.

Because there can be no other outcome. He refuses to let there be.

* * *

**A/N: Oh, I know I said before that you'd probably never get another really long chapter...well, apparently I lied. :) Hopefully, not a bad lie! Anyhow, please review and let me know what you think...I'd love to hear it!  
**

**lol, Kelly...remember when we talked many chapters back about Whitey? I can't believe I said that... he fit right in, didn't he?**

**Heads up, everyone: With the direction I have planned for the rest of this, there aren't that many chapters left. I'm sort of sad about that, but excited, too!  
**


	12. Break The Chains On The Heart Of A Soul

**A/N: Here's the next chapter! I don't know why it took so long to start writing it...I think I got intimidated by what I knew I wanted to happen in this one, lol! :) But it's here!**

**And how cool is it that I made it to 100 reviews? THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH for reading and taking time to comment! I really do appreciate it!**

**As always, I don't own OTH, it's characters or anything quoted "'Thus.'" I only get to claim their journey through my world and all mistakes upon it, as it's not beta'd. (find any, PM them my way! chapter's not really proofed either, since I just finished it lol. Wanted to post it right away instead of waiting 'til after overtime tomorrow night!). Enjoy!  
**

**Chapter title comes from a lyric in "To Be Alive Again" by Journey.

* * *

****Ch12: Break The Chains On The Heart Of A Soul**

Lucas leans back against the tree, staring towards the sky. Very aware of the headstone a few feet away, one he really doesn't want to look at yet.

Keith's.

Exhaling, he closes his eyes, focusing on his surroundings. Listening to the rustle of the leaves and the occasional chirp of a bird amongst the quiet. It really is a peaceful place, but he doesn't feel peaceful. Not sure if that's because of everything that happened with the funeral and Peyton, or because of the heightening awareness of a certain headstone. Either way, peace is alluding him right now.

After Skillz had left, Lucas had gone straight to the hospital to find Peyton. He'd just gotten off the elevator when he'd seen a few doctors enter her hospital room with Larry. Not wanting to interrupt—and not wanting to hear about the lack of changes—Lucas had left, finding himself back at the cemetery. Back at the tree near Anna Sawyer's headstone. Back at the tree only feet away from where his uncle rests. But he still can't look at it. He can't bring himself to. It makes it _real_.

He knows it is, of course he does. But all the same, he's not sure he's ready. Not sure what he's supposed to do, or what it's supposed to mean. Not sure if it matters.

_I always mean something when I visit my mom._

Peyton's words reverberate in his memory, causing his eyelids to flutter open. Frowning at the branches above him, before peeking at Anna's headstone contemplatively. He can't help but be curious about what sorts of things Peyton tells her mom. And if anything ever happens when she talks to her...because there has to be a reason she keeps going back. Mostly, he just wonders if her words are ever heard by the person she says them too, or if they simply dissipate into air unacknowledged. Like, if he went to sit at Keith's headstone and express himself, would it really matter? Would it even help him? Or just make his loss that much more apparent, make it felt at a deeper level than it is now?

He's a little scared to find out. Scared to build any kind of expectation, only to be disappointed when nothing happens. There's a small part of him, deep inside, that doesn't want to admit his uncle is gone forever. That no matter what he does or says, Keith will never really know. And the idea that he very well could, is seriously messing with his mind. But how is he supposed to know if his uncle really is hearing what's said to him?

Lucas toys with his hands, fiddling with his fingers as he sighs, an idea tentatively swirling within his mind. Peyton always seems to come away from visiting her mom with an air of sereneness. A calmness that always intrigued him, given a lot of the drama that's happened in her life. He can't say if it comes from simply talking about what's on her mind out loud, or if she actually believes Anna knows. And he'd never thought to ask her.

He's skeptical, usually has been. He believes in Fate, in the idea that life has a plan. But he also believes people can deviate from that plan and forge new paths. The concept of choices and free will. But to his mind, every path—no matter what—will lead to all the big moments Fate wanted you to experience. But when there aren't any more moments planned, when life ends...is that it? Or is it like they say, that _something else_ exists? A _somewhere_ where Keith can look down and see what Lucas is doing with his life. If Keith is able to be disappointed or proud. Or nothing at all.

He lets his gaze focus on the faded headstone in his line of sight. Anna Rebecca Sawyer. Beloved wife and mother. With a single, dried flower resting at the base of the words, withered from the elements. A sign of time passed since the last visit.

And something inside him shifts.

He can't be as skeptical as he sometimes feels, if only for the simple fact that he's able to interact with Peyton in the state she's in. She's in a coma. It's been a while since she left behind a fresh rose during a visit to her mom. And yet, he knows she's come to visit as recently as this morning...but she can't buy flowers. She's not solidly real at the moment. But he knows she's _there,_ able to see and hear everything going on, even though no one else is aware of her.

He never would have thought that possible, but it happened. _Is_ happening. Proof that the universe holds secrets mere mortals don't understand. And who is he to doubt possibilities, especially when he so very badly wants to believe.

It doesn't hurt any less. It doesn't make the ache or regret go away. It doesn't make him feel better. But it feels right somehow, to him, that _somewhere_ the man he considered his father knows he's loved and missed.

A faint smile touches his lips as he pulls himself to his feet. Briefly pausing to trail fingers over Anna's headstone. "Thanks."

Lucas turns his head when a light breeze glides against his skin at the moment, leaving goosebumps in its wake. A little dubious if he should consider that a sign or a coincidence. Maybe more of the former, as his eyes finally stop on a familiar last name.

Feeling frozen to the core, feet like lead weights. Unable or unwilling to move any closer, to see the other side with a name that shouldn't be there yet. Swallowing convulsively and fisting his hands repeatedly by his sides, Lucas stands there. That breeze come again, dancing against the back of his neck, almost urging him forward. Or so it feels. But he takes that first step. And then another. Holding his breath, one foot in front of the other until he finally drops cross-legged to the ground in front of _Keith Alan Scott_.

Not knowing what to say or do, and feeling awkward as hell, Lucas lightly runs a finger over the letters in his uncle's name. "Hey, Keith."

He feels dumb somehow, waiting for something to happen. Half hoping it might. Sighing, "This feels—weird, I guess. I don't know what to say." He shifts uncomfortably, not feeling natural in his own skin. "I mean, you're not here to listen. You—you can't offer advice or..."

Trailing off with a small choke on the words. Blinking furiously against the tears building up, but oddly unable to stop talking. "You don't get...to live the life you al-always wanted. You were just getting to have it, Keith. _I_ was just getting it. And then—we didn't. You never had what you wanted." His voice is a garbled whisper as he leans forward, resting his forehead against Keith's name. "And I miss you."

**0.o o_o o.0**

Peyton watches uneasily as the nurses wheel her unconscious self out the room, wrapping her arms around her midsection and trying to ignore the worrying tone of the doctor's words as they echo in her mind. Instead, she turns to see her dad, needing to garner some sense of hope from his face. But he just looks bleak as he sinks into the chair behind him, glazed eyes on the empty space the bed used to occupy.

His expression reminds her of how he looked when she was eight. And she almost can't handle it.

A small knock of warning sounds before the door opens and Brooke shuffles in, smile fading from her face as she freezes, staring at the empty space in the room. She whirls towards Larry, "What happened? Where is she?"

The panicked tone snaps Larry from his stare as he straightens in his chair. "Brooke. Calm down, she's just undergoing some tests."

"Oh." The brunette slumps in relief, walking towards the second chair and sinking down onto the cushion. "For what?"

Peyton grimaces, while her dad stares at her best friend, slightly shaking his head, obviously unable to find words as he goes to speak but says nothing. Brooke's eyes widen a little, nervousness crawling over her features as she clasps her hands together and leans forward. Her posture is rigid and her tone wobbly as she questions, "What's wrong with her?"

"Maybe nothing, maybe something. They don't really know." Larry sighs, rubbing his fingers at his temple. "She's not responding the same way anymore to physical stimuli. Not for the last day or so."

Looking confused and scared, Brooke gestures weakly, "I don't—I don't understand."

"They really didn't explain it that much. Just that they're going to run some tests, see if the electrical impulses in her brain have changed, or something." Larry looks at the space in the middle of the room. "The doctor said he doesn't want to say anything either way until they have the results."

"But they're concerned." Brooke murmurs, turning her gaze to the center of the room as well.

He nods. "But they're concerned."

"When are the doctors supposed to let you know what's going on?" Brooke questions quietly, her eyes still on the floor in front of her.

Larry leans back in his chair, "Few hours."

"Can I stay?"

He sends a half-startled look her way, like he's surprised she feels the need to ask. "Of course. You're practically family."

Peyton just watches them from the opposite side the room, leaning against the wall. She's not as nervous as she probably should be, but she figures that's because she's not alone in this. Her _dad_is not alone in this. He has Brooke to sit with him, to hear what the doctors have to tell. She has her dad and Brooke...and Lucas. She has people who care, people who can turn to each other and split the load of worry. Like she's been doing with Lucas lately.

She silently sends a _thank you_ into the universe, grateful for what she has. No matter what the doctors end up saying, she doesn't have to face it alone. Lucas was right, when he said no one's given up on her; since the first day they visited, they've kept coming back. They didn't_ leave_. She doesn't have to face anything by herself, like Jimmy had to. Like Mary Edwards almost had to. Peyton has people...and that's what matters.

-x-

Both Larry and Brooke are utterly silent, and it's starting to drive Peyton crazy. She's never really liked intense quiet; it makes her jittery. There's no music or even any conversation. Just nothing. Letting a tiny groan escape, she hoists herself up on the hospital bed next to 'her' feet, hopeful as she regards the door.

They'd brought 'her' back to the room a few hours ago, stating that as soon as the neurologist read the films, he'd be in to discuss things with Larry. It turned into a waiting game, with her dad jerking his head up at every sound and Brooke restlessly busying herself with mindless actions. Her best friend had rearranged the flower vases multiple ways, pushed around the lunch table countless time, and made quick trips to the gift shop for things to 'brighten' the hospital room. Peyton had been amused by both of them at first, but over the last couple of hours amusement wore thin, to be replaced by her own anxious habit of pacing and wringing her hands. And hating the silence.

It's thankfully brought to an end as the door opens to admit two men, kind of startling Peyton at the same time. By the look on their faces...

"Dr. Randall." Larry lurches to his feet, reaching for the other man's hand to in greeting.

The doctor grasps Larry's hand, murmuring, "Mr. Sawyer." Turning to gesture to the second doctor, "This is my resident, Dr. Jennings. He just started a turn on neuro, and will be working on your daughter's case with me."

Her dad nods, greeting the second doctor with a handshake as well. Brooke edges up beside him, drawing everyone's attention to her. In an uncharacteristic move, she shyly ducks her head, looking at Larry with an uncertain gaze. He offers her a half smile, dropping a hand on her shoulder. "This is Brooke. Peyton's sister."

The brunette straightens her back, greeting the doctors with a little more confidence now, apparently assured about her right to stay. Peyton slides to her feet, since everyone else is standing, and moves to flank her dad on his other side. She feels half-protective of him, somehow, yet also in need of being protected by her daddy from the news to come.

"The tests...did they..." Larry trails off, obviously waiting for Dr. Randall to fill in the blanks.

The man nods, turning to his colleague. "Fill Mr. Sawyer in on the tests ran and why."

"Of course." Dr. Jennings cleared his throat, widening his stance and meeting Larry face on. "It was noted the other day, and more pronounced yesterday, that her responses to physical stimuli were delayed. Her vitals remained strong, as well as her basic reflexes. When tested for pain stimuli, reaction time was within the norm for an individual of twice her age and physical condition. Her—"

"_Peyton_." Brooke interrupts in a fierce manner. "_Her_ name is _Peyton_."

There's a moment of stunned quiet that falls, with Dr. Jennings shifting uncomfortably. Larry just smiles at the brunette, reaching over to squeeze her arm in support. Peyton simply looks at her best friend, loving her for the defensive gesture against 'her' being spoken of in such a clinical manner. She was right there, listening, after all. "Thank you, Brookie."

Larry speaks up, "Please, can you skip all the mumbo-jumbo and get to the bottom line? _How is_ my daughter?"

"Mr. Sawyer," Dr. Randall begins, "Peyton's reflexes, both physical and neurological, were being monitored regularly. Now, in a case of coma, there's some variation to the level of response, especially in the physical realm."

Dr. Jennings purses his lips and interrupts, "Basically, she stopped responding."

"What?" Her tone practically a shriek, Brooke spins to face him. "What do you mean, _stopped_?"

Larry pales, meeting the eyes of Dr. Randall, who begins shaking his head. "_Dr. Jennings_, will you please excuse yourself from this room." He orders shortly, causing his resident to blink at him, appalled. "And meet me in my office after this."

As the man does as directed, Brooke switches her attention to the neurologist. "What did he mean? Is Peyton—"

"No." She's cut off by Larry's firm tone. "No. She's going to be fine." He glares at Dr. Randall, "Right?"

The doctor sighs, gesturing to the chairs by the bed. "Please, Mr. Sawyer, have a seat and I'll explain."

Peyton watches Brooke and her dad gingerly lower into the chairs, while the doctor pulls the lunch table over to spread her file on. Wanting to see, Peyton climbs back onto the hospital bed, taking a position where she can look over the man's shoulder. This also gives her a perfect view of her family, as they try to calm themselves from the earlier direction of the conversation.

Dr. Randall clears his throat, and glances quickly at the girl on the bed. "Peyton's reaction time to physical stimuli—like a gentle shock, a small prick on her skin, or taps to her reflexes—has slowed significantly, to almost non-existent, but that's common to a person in a coma." He pauses to gather his thoughts a moment. "There is a gradation system to comas—"

"A what?" Brooke breaks in, obviously confused.

Larry's the one who answers her, "Different levels, Brooke. From a light one to a deep one."

"Right." Dr. Randall nods, picking up where he left off. "In Peyton's case, she seemed to be at a relatively light level of coma, which is why we were so hopeful she'd be awake within a few hours or days. But a lot of neurological issues are unpredictable."

Peyton bites her lip, turning to stare at her unconscious self, trepidation running rampant through her veins. Scared to hear what the doctor has to say next.

"Are you saying she's...deeper in the coma?" Larry chokes out, fisting his hand on his knee.

Brooke starts blinking rapidly, bringing her watery eyes to stare at the blonde in the bed. "Oh, P. Sawyer."

Dr. Randall sighs, flipping a sheet of paper quickly. "A series of basic neurological tests were performed. We looked at pupil response to light, eye fixation when the head is moved—um, if a stare is fixed, it's a bad sign, if a stare moves with the head, it's a good one—and we looked at auditory stimulation as well. From when she was first admitted, those responses have delayed more than hoped." He levels a look at Larry, "We ran more extensive tests because there's a fear of brain death."

A choked cry from Brooke breaks the intent look between the men. Larry turns to offer comfort, but doesn't really take his eyes off of the doctor. For Peyton, everything feels like it's happening through a dense fog. She had never even entertained the idea of brain death. To have a body that's physically present, but no hope of recovery...call her optimistic, but she had only ever thought: wake up or die. Just the idea of remaining _like that_ for the rest of her life, or of staying in this half-existence...makes her want to vomit.

"Fortunately," Dr. Randall raises his voice to speak over Brooke for a moment, to draw focus back to the results. "Brain death can be ruled out by, um, brain imaging tests. We scan for electrical impulses in the brain as we introduce various outside stimuli. Peyton's scans are still high functioning. That means, while her coma _has_ deepened, there's still the very real possibility she can wake up. Like I said, comas aren't predictable."

Larry nods slightly, "But doesn't that also mean she could get worse?"

"I'm afraid so." Dr. Randall sighs. "There have been instances where a person in a light level of coma just never recovers, but some where long-term, deep level comas have. Some comas last only hours, and others last years. There's no telling with neurological issues; there's still a lot about the brain we just don't know."

Brooke heaves a sigh, springing to her feet in agitation. She runs a hand through her hair as she practically growls, "So what? You're basically saying _nothing's_ changed?" She glares at the doctor, who seems to accept it with considerable aplomb. "Peyton's still in a coma and she may or may not wake up? And you don't know any more than that? So what was the _point_ of all of this?"

"Brooke." Larry quietly states her name, reaching to tug her back down into her chair. "It's not his fault. There just aren't any answers for this." He looks at her intently. "Pay attention to the good news; right now, there's still hope. Focus on that."

The brunette nods shakily.

Dr. Randall starts tucking papers back into his file, giving them a moment before speaking again. "She's been in a coma longer than her injuries would suggest. Peyton hasn't suffered any head trauma, so the prolonged nature of unconsciousness is puzzling. But she's healthy, young, and physically fit. Her scans also show a lot of brain activity, and that is _always_ a good sign. We'll keep monitoring that aspect, but it's mostly up to her now, to heal enough to wake up."

"Thank you, Dr. Randall." Larry stands to shake the doctor's hand, before turning to the hospital bed. Brooke basically snubs the doctor, with a deliberate turn of her head at his farewell. Peyton would normally find that amusing, but mostly she's numb. She kind of has to agree with Brooke...what was the point of scaring them like that to basically say nothing is different?

Larry wraps his hand around one of 'hers', Peyton coming out of her daze fast when she thinks she actually feels it. But she's not positive. Brooke approaches the blonde from the other side of the bed, taking her free hand in both of hers. Again, the hint of sensation around her hand is there, causing Peyton to freeze momentarily, unable to believe what she's feeling. But she's _feeling_ it.

Giving a watery half-laugh, hope fighting it's way in. Because t_his_ matters, too.

"Come on, P. Sawyer." Brooke murmurs lowly. "You heard him. Good signs for waking up. Now it's just up to you, okay? Wake up."

Larry abruptly shoots to his feet, startling both teens in the room. Peyton, still perched on the hospital bed, studies him worriedly. He looks overwhelmed, not sure what emotions he should be feeling, or what actions to take. Helpless. In a way Peyton doesn't ever remember him being before, not even when they lost her mom. He wildly looks around, causing Brooke to timidly say his name.

He turns a careful gaze on her, deftly avoiding looking at the girl laying in the bed. Which does send a spear of hurt through Peyton...but she also gets it. Needing to not see something, in order to delay having to face the pain of it. "I—I can't be here."

"What?" Brooke swipes a hand under her eye, obliterating evidence of tears. "But—"

"I can't." Larry manages to croak out, hoarsely. "I—I just—I need Anna for this. I don't know what I'm supposed to do." Her dad gives a brief look at her unconscious self, mumbling, "I'll be back, soon. I just...I need to go for a bit. I need Anna."

And it's an oddly comforting notion, that she isn't the only one who does that. She isn't the only one who still goes to her mom when life needs sorting out. To be honest, she hadn't thought about her dad doing that at all. But to now know that he does, gives her a settled feeling she can't describe. And maybe a glimmer of peace too, from all these signs of not being alone in how she feels. For not really being alone at all.

Peyton's eyes widen when a disconcerting realization strikes her. Normally, after receiving such news, she'd be doing the same thing as her dad; running to her mom. But her mom isn't the first person she's thinking of to share this with. That would be Lucas. The realization throws her off balance a little, the feeling made worse with the sensation of Brooke's hand around hers. Her best friend. The girl who happens to be in love with the same guy she is. The girl he happens to love back, even if they're technically broken up at the moment.

Sighing, she studies the brunette perched on the bed and talking to her unconscious self about waking up. Her mind starts to play back the conversation with Dr. Randall, but she stifles it. She doesn't want to think about it and drive herself crazy. She kind of wants to talk about it, actually.

So with a last look at her best friend, Peyton thinks herself to the one person she knows she can really share this with.

**0.o o_o o.0**

He nearly jumps out of his skin when she suddenly appears by his side as he's entering his bedroom. He does stumble back a step, with a muffled curse, when he bangs his shin against the shelf by his door.

A muted chuckle escapes as she shifts out of the way, "Oops. Sorry." A sheepish smile tugs at her mouth, "Um, _incoming_."

"Sure. You say that _now_, after I'm battered and bruised." He rolls his eyes, using one hand to swipe over his leg while he pushes the door shut with the other. With a relieved sigh, he kicks off the dress shoes he's still wearing and flops down on the edge of his bed.

She makes a face at him, commenting, "Don't be a wuss. That was barely a tap."

Looking up at her with a small smile, he just shrugs. Lucas watches her move to the center of the room and glance around slightly anxiously. Concerned, he settles himself more comfortably on the bed, removing his jacket as he asks, "What's up? You okay?"

"Hmm?" She spins to face him, startled. "Oh. I—I don't really want to talk about me at the moment." She focuses on him, eyebrow quirking, like she just now really noticed him. "Are you still wearing your suit from this morning?"

He grins boyishly, teasing lightly, "Why? Some sort of walk of shame attitude, you got going there?" He's relieved to see the eye roll she gives him, seeming a little more like herself with the action. He's still a little worried about her state of mind, especially with the doubts she revealed that morning. He just doesn't want to push her too hard, doesn't want her to shut down on him completely. So he knows he has to tread lightly.

"_You_ do something bad?" She mocks lightly, appearing to relax a little. "_No_. Not _Lucas_."

"Funny." He purses his lips and squints at her. Watching as she gingerly joins him on the bed, sitting with her legs pulled up under her. And maybe he lets himself get a little distracted by that. But just a little.

She sighs, drawing his attention back to her face. "No, seriously. Is there a reason you're still in your dress clothes?"

"Kinda." He offers, undoing his tie and tossing it towards his desk. "After I talked to Skillz, I ended up back at the tree again. Sat there a while, then...visited Keith."

Peyton looks at him with wide eyes and disbelief written on her face. "Really? I though it'd take you longer, I guess."

"Me, too, actually. But...I thought...well, you go and see your mom a lot, right? And, I dunno." He shrugs a little. "Remember when we were talking about Dan, and you said that you always mean something when you visit your mom?"

"Yeah, I remember." She agrees, giving him a hint of a smile. "I always feel like she's hearing me, and it matters, you know?"

He nods lightly. "I wasn't sure if I...I guess, _believed_ in the _idea_ of Keith."

"What do you mean?"

"You know, that he could...hear me, or that it could matter." He watches her bite her lip uncertainly, but he continues with a small smile aimed her way. "But _then_ I thought, I have no problem believing in you being here like this. So...I tried it. The talking to him thing."

She sighs, scooting to lean back against the headboard, stretching her legs out in front of her. Lucas shifts his position, mimicking hers in the opposite direction, and trying not to let his eyes wander again.

"Well," She draws out slowly, "How did you feel about that?"

"Awkward as hell." He quips, earning a quick grin from her. "Then...a little bit lighter. I think I'm probably gonna keep going."

"Good."

A calming quiet falls over them, Lucas taking a moment to revel in the peaceful feeling settling over him. Knowing it won't always last, that there will be good and bad days. Good and bad moments. He studies the girl in front of him, as she seems to zone out a little. Still hesitant to pry, but extremely curious and worried about where her head's at, he softly clears his throat. Garnering her attention, he says, "So, I also tried going to the hospital, but when I got there, doctors were going into the room with your dad. I didn't want to interrupt or anything, so I left. Any news?"

Her expression crumbles, making her look acutely vulnerable. She tilts her head back, tearing her gaze from his and bringing it to the ceiling. He prompts, "Peyton? What happened?"

"They ran tests. Nothing's changed, really." She brings her eyes back to his and attempts a smile. It fails to put him at ease.

He folds his legs under him, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Clasping his hands underneath his chin and regarding her solemnly, "What really happened?"

"Dr. Randall—he's the neurologist—said...he said my coma got worse. They ran tests looking for brain death." She blurts in a rush.

Lucas rears back, horrified at what that could mean. Sickened at the thought of her having to listen to the doctor say something like that.

Peyton continues, "The tests came back okay—good news, right?" She interjects dryly. "Anyhow, he kept saying that the brain isn't predictable. So I could die, could wake up, or remain comatose for the rest of my life!"

Her pitch raises, so she's almost shrieking by the last words. He struggles to regulate his breathing and formulate any kind of thought at all. The only thing really getting through is _Damn it. Not Peyton. _He doesn't know what to say to her, how to alleviate the fear on her face as she obviously tries to collect her own emotions.

Huffing out a breath, she slumps further against the headboard. "Then I started thinking about the blanks some more."

"The blanks?" Lucas manages to ask, mind latching onto the new topic a little gratefully. "What about them?"

"That maybe they happen when my coma gets worse." She answers wearily.

He frowns, countering, "Or maybe when it's better." At her cynical glance, he elaborates, "Like I said this morning, the blanks could happen when you're reconnecting. Like you're trying to wake up, so all your energy has to be there. You can't be...separate, and trying to wake up at the same time."

"Or," She argues, "They probably happen in the moments I'm so deeply unconscious, I can't even exist in _this_ way. And eventually, I won't be able to return at all, and then you'll find out—"

"Damn it!" Lucas seethes, jerking his hand through his hair, "Didn't we _just_ have this conversation? About outlook? About giving up?"

Pulling her legs up to wrap her arms around them, she nods, chastised. "Yeah. Sorry. But I'm not giving up—I'm really not." She explains earnestly. "I just—I'm scared, Luke."

"So am I." He sighs.

This time the silence is heavier, almost crushing. He raises his eyes to hers, trying to decipher the thoughts behind them. He apparently doesn't have to try too hard, because she offers them up rather easily with her next words, "And I—I really do know I'm not alone in this. I have my dad. And Brooke's been there...and Nate, Haley." She smiles softly, "And I have you."

"You always will." He can't help but interject, wanting her to know that.

She nods once before ducking her head. Apparently needing to regain composure, as she takes a moment before raising her head again. "Having people like that...it helps, mostly."

"Yeah. I know." He attempts a grin, "But what's with the qualifier?"

"It doesn't make it less terrifying, Luke. It matters—it matters _a lot_—but I can't see what having people around while I'm in a coma is going to have anything to do with me waking up from it."

He contemplates her words for a moment. Finally saying, "Maybe nothing."

"Thanks." She murmurs, obviously caught off guard by his comment. And not too pleased with it.

He scoffs mutely. "See? You have this...defeatist way of looking at the situation, but I don't even think you honestly believe that. I think you're like...a closet optimist."

"Am not!" The words practically fly out of her surprised mouth. "If anyone—you're the optimist! You're the one who's always like, 'yay Fate' and stuff."

He can't stop the muffled chuckle, especially with the truly affronted expression on her face. "Yes you are. You've been...like my rock through all of this, since I walked into the hospital room. You've been there, at every low point, trying to cheer me up. You've—you said you were really hurt thinking you've been abandoned by us, but you still open up and let us in. Mostly me and Nate, but still. You just have this...this huge capacity to, I don't know, _forgive_ everything that we've done that hurt you in this situation. And you still visit your mom, even when you're like this."

She's shocked. And apparently speechless, as she opens and closes her mouth a few times. Fidgeting in place for a moment as she stares at him silently.

He nods firmly. "You always seem to see the good things, and all the possibilities. But not for yourself. Not really. So that's why your optimism is still hiding in a freaking closet."

She stares for a moment more, before seemingly deciding to tackle one thing at a time. "Um, how does visiting my mom make me an optimist?" Her tone is meek, almost subdued. But the hint of challenge he can read in her eyes has him grinning at her.

"Well, just something I thought of, when I was with Keith this morning. I didn't believe in the idea of it...but you do. And I was thinking, that maybe I was a skeptic or something. At least until I realized that I have no problem with talking to you while you're...basically, a—"

"Spirit?" She supplies with a quirk of her eyebrow.

"Or something." He continues, without missing a beat. "It took having this kind of experience to give me any sort of hope that Keith can still know things about my life. _You_ believed that before all of this. Through _everything _you've been through since I've known you. When you, more than most people, would have a reason to _not_ believe. Face it, you're not as pessimistic as you like to pretend."

"I—I don't know what to say to that. I think I just needed something to believe in. So why not all of that, you know?" She murmurs, lowering her eyes to her hands, which are gripping her legs tightly.

He shifts his body, neatly clambering off the bed. She startles, looking at him quizzically. Before she can question him, he seats himself right next to her, leaning against the headboard with a low sigh. "It's more than that, Peyton. I don't get why you don't see that. But it's there. Now, you just have to apply the things you say to us, to yourself, too."

She attempts a smirk that fails miserably, "You got all this from a _thanks_?"

"What can I say, I'm talented that way." He jokes, trying to lighten the mood a little. Afraid that maybe he might have pushed too far, too fast. But he feels better for having brought her actions to her attention. With the way she was speaking, it almost sounded like she's already given up. But she's still there, so he doesn't think she could've lost hope. Not completely. And he thinks that means something important.

A short pause lingers before she breaks it. "Um, can we change topics or something? This one...I need—I think—"

"You need time to process it?" Lucas suggests knowingly. "You do that. Take whatever time you need." He smirks, "You'll see I'm right. Like usual."

She scoffs and shakes her head slightly. The quiet that falls next isn't suffocating. It actually feels a little more hopeful. Lucas turns his head to take a peek at the girl beside him, to see her staring at the wall across the room, deep in thought. He smiles to himself, giving his attention to the wall as well, as he thinks about a lot of things that happened that day. And the things he'd wanted to tell her, when he next got the chance. And right now, seems like a pretty great one.

Because she's still here.

He still has a chance to tell her how he feels, still has the chance to build something amazing with her once she wakes up. A chance Keith never got to have with Karen, the one he'd talked to his uncle about this morning. And he doesn't want to miss it because he didn't _tell her_. He doesn't want to waste whatever time they'll have, just because he was too afraid to take the chance.

So he just leaps.

"'If I say, I love you, right now, will you hold it against me?'"

She jerks next to him in surprise, darting a wounded look his way. "The library? This topic—I don't—"

"'Because I do, Peyton.'" He interrupts, voice firm and low. He meets deep green, watching her eyes blink rapidly as she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. "I really do. And I want you to know that."

"Luke..." His name comes out a tiny whimper, sending a vise grip around his rapidly beating heart. He's scared as hell, but he can't recant it now. He says nothing, letting it sink in for her.

She abruptly stands, leveling him with an unreadable look as she firms her stance at the end of his bed, crossing her arms over her chest. "You love me as a friend. And I love you, too." She states resolutely. "And you're _in_ love with Brooke."

"No. I'm not." Lucas straightens his posture, the words tumbling out before he can stop to think about them.

Her eyebrows fly up and she graces him with a cynical parody of a smile. "_Yes_, you are. I was there, Luke, when you fought for her! I think you're just confused right now, with everything that's going on. And once you start thinking clearly, you guys will get—"

"I _am_ thinking clearly!" Luke seethes, sliding off his bed to stand in front of her. Not bothering to hide his wince when she takes a step back. "I care about Brooke, I do. But, it was easy to fight for her—"

"Easy?" Peyton exclaims in utter disbelief.

He ignores her interruption, "—because no matter what she did, it never hurt _that_ much. Not like when you ran away from me the first time. Or walked away the second time!"

She shakes her head, whispering, "You can't."

"But I do."

"But Brooke—"

"Will be _fine_." Lucas stresses, trying to make her see the truth that he already figured out for himself.

Peyton gives him a look of desperation mixed with guilt. "She's not fine. She's _hurting_."

"Brooke's hurt because _you're_ hurt. _I'm_ hurt because _you're_ hurt." Lucas grinds out between gritted teeth. "But I'm _hopeful_, because you're _here_ with me, at least in this way."

She darts her gaze around wildly, gesturing absently as she tries to speak. giving him a look of complete panic before she simply vanishes.

"Damn it!" Lucas curses aloud, kicking his bed in an effort to release tension, "Damn it all to hell!"

**0.o o_o o.0**

Peyton finds herself back in her hospital room, thoughts swirling around in her head in one big mix of confusion. He can't possibly be in love with her, he just can't. It would be too good to be true, and she _knows_ life doesn't work out that way.

She had a plan. To bury her feelings, sit back and watch Lucas and Brooke live happily ever after. She didn't plan for this. Not even remotely.

And she has absolutely no clue how to handle it.

Turning towards the hospital bed, Peyton takes one step forward and freezes in place at the sight before her. Brooke is lying curled up next to 'her,' still gripping the unconscious girl's hand tightly, even in sleep. That, right there, is another reason she doesn't know how to handle Lucas' confession. It's always been Peyton and Brooke, since they were little kids. And a boy—Lucas—had come between them before. She can't bear the thought of that happening again.

Approaching the bed, Peyton looks down at her own hands, realizing that there's still a hint of sensation around one of them. The one her best friend is holding onto.

Maybe she _is_ a reason the brunette is hurting right now. But she doesn't want to be the reason in a different way. Not again. Brooke stirs a little, shattering Peyton's train of thought as she watches the other girl sleepily look around in confusion. Brooke just makes a face and adjusts her position around her bedmate, murmuring, "Love you, P. Sawyer. Wake me when you get up." before drifting back to sleep.

Peyton smiles, feeling the slight urge to cry, "Love you, too, B. Davis."

And maybe they'll probably be okay, no matter what. She'll make sure of it.

She thinks herself back to Lucas, regaining her bearings at the abrupt shift to her surroundings. The boy in question is sitting on the edge of the bed, head buried within his hands. He looks defeated, and she hates that.

"I'm in love with you, too." She announces before losing her nerve. "It scares me."

His head shoots up, staring at her incredulously before a wide smile stretches across his face. "It scares me, too. Loving you, I mean. Been that way since the beginning, because...you hurt me so easily."

"Ditto." She gives a half-laugh, "Which is probably why we got where we are."

Lucas nods, moving to stand right in front of her. "Yeah. Probably." He offers her a sweet smile, blue eyes twinkling. "Can we try this again? This time with no running?"

She laughs, nodding at him with a grin she can't help. Emotions running high as she locks eyes with the boy who holds her heart in the palm of his hand.

"'Peyton Sawyer, I love you.'"

"I love you, Lucas Scott." She responds in a near whisper, watching his smile get even bigger.

A smile that dims a little, as hers does, when he reaches out unthinkingly to touch her. Only to connect with air. They stare at each other in silence, reality intruding on their moment of happiness.

"What do we do now?"

"You wake up." He says simply, with a slight pleading look lurking in a sea of blue.

She bites her lip, "I don't know how."

And there's really not much to say to that. They both know the situation, both know the odds she's been given. But it doesn't stop hope from growing, or cause the smiles to completely drop from either face. For Peyton, it's because the boy she loves, loves her back. And it doesn't matter that the feeling is tinged with the slightest desperation at the moment. It's still an amazing thing to get to feel. Because she's still here to _feel_ it.

* * *

**A/N: Let me know where your head's at! I'd love to hear it :)**


	13. With One Step At a Time

**A/N: If anyone is still interested in this..._Many, Many_ apologies for the huge delay! :( Real life pulled me under, and when I finally came up for air I had a massive case of writer's block. I mean for everything; this is the hardest I've ever had to work in writing essays, reports, and speeches, lol. It also didn't help that with no new Lucas/Peyton on my T.V., interest in the fandom kind of faded, which is sad. **

**Anyhow, I got my writing mojo back! I don't like unfinished things, so I'm reviving this to wrap it up! There will be 2 more chapters after this. Thank you everyone who reviewed ch12; I really do appreciate them!  
**

**Chapter title comes from the song "This Girl" by Nikki Flores. Anything in a "'quote'" like that is not mine either. I don't own OTH or it's characters, only this path I took them down.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Ch13: The Longest Journey Always Starts With One Step At a Time**

Peyton studies the picture of Lucas and Haley that sits atop his dresser, absently humming the cloying tune quietly emanating from the television. The movie has long since been over, with the screen now stuck at the DVD title page, repeating the same short tune over and over; she'll probably never get it out of her head.

With a small sigh, she takes a peek at the boy sound asleep in the bed. She can't help the wide grin that covers her face at the thought of last night.

He said he loves her.

On one level, she's still having a little trouble wrapping her mind around it, still finds it a little hard to believe. But she could tell he meant it. She meant it, too. And the freedom of sharing her emotions with him, the heady rush of knowing he feels the same...well, she'll grin about it all she wants to. Despite the sorrow and harshness of everything else going on, because loving and being loved is a big deal.

Turning back to the dresser and another frame, she lightly traces the grin on a young Lucas' face as he sits between Karen and Keith. She knows the picture has to be bittersweet for the blonde boy, but she likes that he has it on display. It's a good sign. He's healing, at least a little. It had taken her dad months to be able to look at a picture of Anna, though Peyton had had a frame hidden under her bed since the funeral, sneaking it out whenever she missed her mom.

She jumps lightly when the door opens, turning to see Karen peek her head in before entering. She watches the older woman approach the bed, reaching out to lightly nudge her son as she perches on the edge of the bed next to his hip. "Lucas?"

"Hmm? Peyton?" He mumbles, twisting around and rubbing at his face before sleepily opening his eyes.

His mom only quirks an eyebrow and muses, "You know, that's the second time recently you've had that reaction when I've woken you up. I thought you'd outgrown that when you were thirteen, fourteen."

"Ma!" It emerges as a squeak, a dull red flush covering his skin as he scrambles to a sitting position and stares at his mom with something akin to horror.

Peyton's jaw drops, turning to regard him with wide eyes, but he purposely refuses to meet her gaze. She's not sure what to say right now, or how exactly to take that statement. They didn't even know each other when they were that age.

"I was just commenting." Karen shrugs lightly, "It's not like I said that in front of her."

This time Peyton sees Lucas' eyes dart in her direction quickly, before he just groans and turns back to his mom, abruptly changing the subject. "Um, what's going on?"

But his mom's attention is caught by the TV, a wistful smile coming and going. "_The_ _Princess Bride_? I've always loved that movie." She turns to him, "Do you remember when we used to watch it all the time when you were younger?"

"Yeah." Lucas gives a light chuckle. "Haley always wanted to watch it and try to recreate the adventures in the living room. You'd manage to find your way into the room after the first few minutes and say that you'd only stay for a moment. But you _never_ missed the movie."

She laughs, too. "Yeah. It's an easy one to get caught up in. I'm surprised to see…I haven't seen you watch this in years."

Lucas shrugs, avoiding looking at the blonde teen still standing by his dresser.

Peyton smiles at his obvious discomfort as he mumbles something she can't hear. _The_ _Princess Bride_ has always been on her top-favorite-movies list and she knew they had it, so she had cajoled Lucas to put it in for her before he fell asleep last night. He'd been exhausted, but she had wanted to stay with him rather than leave; they figured a movie would be more entertaining than watching him sleep.

Karen grins, patting Lucas' leg. "You don't have to blush, Lucas. I knew you always secretly loved this movie as much as I did."

He merely rolls his eyes, objecting, "It was the first thing I grabbed! It's not like I went hunting for it."

Except he had.

Her gaze turns worried. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Little restless." He brushes off any reason for concern. "I only made it as far as Westley throwing himself down a ravine at Buttercup's orders, so…it worked as a sleeping aid."

He grins at his mom as she swats at him for his teasing tone. Then he sobers, bringing the conversation back to his original question. "You doing okay, mom?"

Karen sighs softly, answering, "I'm…yeah, I am. I know I didn't see you yesterday, but…are you doing okay?"

"I'm...good, actually. It—it wasn't bad, like I thought it might be. And I feel better for it."

"Yeah? I'm glad." Karen grasps his hand with hers, letting a moment of silence pass before breaking it, "Anyway, I thought I'd go down to the Cafe today."

"Do you want me to go with you?" Lucas asks, shifting his legs over the edge of the bed and pushing blankets away.

His mom smiles at him. "No, but thank you. Deb's opening and I'm only going to check in, see how she's holding up." Standing, Karen sends him a half-shrug. "I don't think I'm up for being there all day, but I just want to _do_ something. I'll probably head to the hospital around lunchtime and bring something for Larry…are you gonna stop by and see Peyton later?"

"Yeah. Probably." He shrugs casually. Peyton rolls her eyes at his forced nonchalance; his mom apparently already has a lot of ideas in her head, so she doesn't know why he's bothering to pretend he really doesn't care.

And maybe his mom has the same thought, because she turns around once she gets to the doorway, "Well, I guess I'll see you there, then. Maybe going to see her will help with the worrying. And that habit of asking for her when you wake up."

A raised eyebrow accompanying a smirk is the last sight either blonde has of Karen as she shuts the bedroom door behind her. A short burst of silence hangs over the room, before Lucas drops his head back with an embarrassed groan. "It wasn't like that."

"Like _what_?" Peyton strolls over to the bed, looking down on him with a curious manner. "And what did she mean by you used to do that when you were thirteen?"

He ignores her question, hastening to a standing position and busying himself with putting the movie in the case and shutting down the TV.

"Luke." Peyton probes, joining him and trying to meet his eyes.

He huffs loudly, snapping his gaze to hers. "Lately, when I've fallen asleep after talking to you, I automatically think you're the one waking me up, since you were with me last. At least, as far as I've been aware."

She gives him a moment, then quirks her eyebrow. "Okay…_now_. But I'm pretty sure that wasn't the case before. We didn't even _know_ each other when we were thirteen!"

A light blush covers his face again, but she doesn't let him avoid her eyes, turning with him when he tries to sidestep around her. He sighs, "Maybe we hadn't actually met each other yet, but I knew who you were."

Peyton thinks she'd probably be blushing now, too, if it was possible. "Oh." This time, she's the one who lowers her eyes and desperately searches for a change in topic. "So, um, what're the plans for today?"

He laughs, visibly relaxing at her reaction to his implication. He moves to start digging through his dresser drawers in pursuit of something to wear. "Well, I figure, we can head to the hospital this afternoon. Since I told my mom I would."

"Can't we just stay here?" She pouts a little, dropping onto the bed. "Avoid the real world for a little longer? Watch movies?"

"Nuh uh." He piles clothes into his arms, straightening to face her. "I fear for my life if I have to stay locked in here with the weird movies you've been watching. They might attack me or something."

She makes a face at him as he heads to the door. "Hey, Luke? You're a real comedian, you know that?"

"Thanks." He laughs. "I'm here every night."

"If you survive getting dressed that morning." She quips sassily. "With the way I've seen you do it."

He turns and levels her with a look. "Ha ha. As long as people don't pop in at their whim." He sends her a smirk, "Try to resist, okay? Even though I do shower naked."

Her jaw drops, but before she can respond he sails out the door and heads down the hall. She stares at the doorway, flabbergasted at his audacity and a little amused by their bantering at the same time. Plus, the image or two that formed at his words...which probably shouldn't be in her mind at all.

With a small groan, she flops onto her back, staring at the ceiling. And seriously contemplates popping into the bathroom after his shower. Only to see him trip. No other reason. Really.

**0.o o_o o.0**

"Ready?" Lucas murmurs once they reach the door to her hospital room.

She bites her lip, "Not really, no." If she's honest, she doesn't want to face reality at the moment. She wants to revel in her little bubble of bliss for a while longer.

Seemingly following her thoughts, Lucas gestures to the door with an encouraging smile. "I love you…and it'll be fine. Come on."

She only nods, preceding him through the door quickly and taking in the scene. Her dad and Brooke are seated in chairs next to the hospital bed, idly chatting. Conversation stops as they bring their focus to Lucas, who shuts the door before turning to face the room.

"Hey." He gives an awkward wave.

Larry offers him a smile and gestures to the chair on the opposite side of the room. "Hi, Lucas. Pull up a chair and join us."

While he does as directed, Peyton settles herself comfortably on the end of the bed, right next to her unconscious self. Brooke scoots her chair over a little bit, making room for Lucas. It also brings her closer to her best friend, so she unthinkingly covers the sleeping girl's hand with her own. Peyton has to smile when the faint sensation surrounds her hand. "Guess what, Luke? I can feel her holding my hand now, too."

A hint of a smile in her direction is his response, as he fits his chair in the spot they opened up.

"How are you holding up, Lucas?" Larry questions politely, giving the boy a quick smile.

Lucas smiles back, "I've been...doing okay. You?"

"Okay. Peyton's doing fine, too. The doctor says tests are looking stable."

"She's strong. Always has been." Lucas agrees. He turns to the brunette on his other side, "Brooke. How are you?"

She merely nods in acknowledgement, giving only a clipped, "Fine." It causes Larry to stare at her in confused shock, apparently not sure what to make of her new attitude.

Peyton sighs heavily, running the fingers of one hand over the other, absently outlining the 'feel' of Brooke's fingers around her own. "Don't take it too personally, Luke. That's how she's always been when a person's not in her good graces." She's not sure if he's going to let it slide, but a barely discernable nod lets her know he will.

Her dad clears his throat, eyes darting between Lucas and Brooke. It almost makes Peyton want to laugh; he looks like he's waiting for a war to erupt at any moment.

The door opening dissolves the mounting tension as everyone turns to watch Karen walk in; she's earlier than she said she'd be that morning. She gives them a soft smile, lifting a paper bag and saying, "Hi. I brought you something to eat, Larry. Thought you might appreciate food _not_ from the cafeteria."

Larry smiles, "Thanks, Karen." He stands up and offers her his chair, which she gratefully takes. Lucas retrieves another chair from the other side of the room and adds it to the circle while everyone else greets each other.

"I brought extra, too. I figured you might be here." Karen tells Brooke, rummaging in the bag and extracting a wrapped sandwich. The brunette teen takes it with a murmured _thanks_, but sets it aside as she reaches again for her unconscious friend's hand.

The little group starts making small talk, which Peyton mostly tunes out. Instead, she chooses to focus on the sensation around her hand and her unconscious body sitting scant inches from her. She lets her mind wander a little, touching upon some of the things that have happened since she fell into a coma. Things with her friends, things with her mom and dad, things with Lucas. The conversations she overheard and the lessons taken from other people's situations.

It isn't a lie. To say that having people there for you is a wonderful part of life. That it matters.

She knows it does. She also knows that letting people in can be one of the hardest things to do. And that it's probably harder to keep people _out_ when they're so insistent on getting to know you. The group currently sitting in her hospital room is a perfect example of that.

It also definitely explains Lucas, when they first met. She hadn't wanted him in her life at the time, hadn't wanted him to keep chipping away at her defenses. But she hadn't been fully successful in turning him away from her. It had proved to be much more difficult to make him go away than to make him stay around.

"I was thinking, when she wakes up, we can have a small get together to celebrate. Like a dinner or something." Larry offers tentatively, bringing Peyton's attention to him. "When she's up to it."

Karen nods, "I think that sounds like a great idea. I'm sure she'll love it."

"Definitely." Peyton agrees with a small chuckle, "I never say no to dinner." She grins mischievously at Lucas as he practically strangles on a laugh.

He sends her a quick and subtle look, saying, "Peyton loves food. It should _definitely_ be a dinner."

Larry laughs at that, agreeing whole-heartedly. "You're right, my girl sure can eat, can't she? Now I just need to think about what kind of food."

"Well, I did do a cooking school in Italy." Karen reminds them.

"Yum!" Brooke breaks in, "Please say you learned how to do tiramisu or zaba—zabali...something."

"Zabaglione." Karen fills in with a low laugh. "And yes, I did actually."

At her confirmation, Brooke gives a little squeeze to the hand she's holding, a sensation Peyton fully feels. She's excited too; she and Brooke had first tasted that dessert when they were ten and decided it was very a 'grown up' type of food. They'd had Brooke's housekeeper make it often during that summer vacation, eventually claiming it as 'their' dessert. Unfortunately, they hadn't had it again after that housekeeper left.

Peyton knows Brooke's taking that as a good sign, that they will have the chance to share it with each other again. She's secretly holding onto the same hope.

While Karen describes the dessert to Larry, Peyton shifts her attention from Brooke. Lucas catches her eye, slyly making a face at her, which has her wrinkling her nose right back. She's kind of having fun watching him try to interact with her while avoiding bringing attention to himself. Honestly, she's surprised no one else has noticed anything, because sometimes the boy just isn't as subtle as he believes himself to be.

"And I was thinking that Peyton and I could have a couple of sleepovers once she comes home." Brooke throws out with a hopeful look at Larry, who simply nods.

"I _know_ she'd love that." Her dad grins in the direction of the bed.

Peyton smirks, "And it's basically Brooke-code for needs-place-to-live-so-Peyton's-bed-will-do-fine."

Lucas laughs out loud, drawing the attention of everyone else to him and earning confused looks. Peyton's not really sure how he's going to explain that reaction, but she stifles her own laughter at the sight of his brief, wide-eyed panic.

"Um," He shrugs sheepishly at Brooke but settles his gaze at the bed, "I heard you gave Nate and Hales their key back, right? So isn't a sleep over practically code for you're homeless and need a place to crash?"

Peyton doesn't even mind that he stole her words because they send Larry into a laughing fit at the expression on the brunette teen's face. She hasn't heard her dad laugh like that in a while.

She's missed it.

Once again her eyes fall onto her unconscious self, intently studying one of the reasons for her dad's lack of laughter lately. Her gaze absently drifts to the table pushed against the wall next to the head of the bed, where the day's newspaper lies.

She zones out of the conversation occurring around her, the earlier giddiness fading away into a serious contemplation. It's a weird thing, to experience the world while not being _in_ it. It's odd to note that it's barely been half a month since she fell into a coma, since she effectively stepped back from living.

It feels more like a lifetime has passed with her existing in this weird limbo. She's experienced so much, in such a short time.

At the same time, she also _hasn't_ experienced anything at all.

Because while Peyton has been popping into people's lives and witnessing her friends dealing with issues…her 'actual' self has been stuck in bed unable to relate to anything her friends and family have gone through recently. 'She' is still frozen in time, her only interactions with the world being extremely one-sided. No one knows what she's experiencing because she can't tell them.

And if they don't know, if they can't reciprocate, how meaningful can she claim it is?

Nathan doesn't know what his being there means to her, or that she heard his thanks for doing the same for him when he needed it. Haley doesn't know that she's grateful to the girl for being there when Brooke needed someone to talk to. Brooke doesn't know that Peyton is now aware of her best friend's feelings regarding last year, or that Peyton understands why she may feel that way.

But, paradoxically, for the first time since she woke up next to herself, Peyton feels grateful for going through this experience. For getting to step back from the world and work through her thoughts. For discovering a lot of things she never would have found out otherwise. For having the chance to help the boy she loves in a way she might not have gotten to if she'd physically been there.

And for the opportunity to be a little more honest with herself as well.

A tapping rhythm on the back of her hand has Peyton's gaze flying to her other self. Brooke's absently keeping a beat with her thumb while she discusses a trip Rachel invited them on once Peyton is recuperated. The absent gesture makes Peyton smile; albeit somewhat sadly.

She's learned a lot in this limbo, but she thinks one of the more important things has to do with trust.

As she explained to Lucas, she trusts him more than most people and on a deeper level than anyone. He says he trusts her the same way…and they can fully interact with each other while she's in this state.

During Nathan's visit the other day, he extended an offer of support and openness that she gave back just as deeply. It may have had its limits, but the mutual trust _was_ there. He was able to partially connect with her on this limbo-plane.

And Brooke. Peyton was able to find out a lot about her best friend's state of mind. She learned a lot about the level of open honesty they _didn't_ share with each other. She learned it and she thinks Brooke realized it a little, too…but the brunette doesn't know that Peyton's aware of it. She thinks that probably explains why she can only feel Brooke a little bit and why her best friend can't sense her at all: that lesson wasn't reciprocated.

"…she's alone too much, and that's really all my fault."

Her dad's statement shatters Peyton's thoughts. She shifts her position, sitting cross-legged fully facing the group by 'her' bed.

"Larry, I'm sure she understands." Karen softly tells him, laying her hand on his arm. "You're not abandoning her, you're just working."

He grimaces.

Lucas nods, "It's more…independence, actually. You know? She's learning how to do for herself."

"Yeah." Brooke agrees, with a look to the girl in the bed.

Peyton simply sighs. She knows her dad loves her. She just wishes he could be around a little more. But at the same time, she doesn't totally _hate_ her situation, either.

Larry shakes his head. "It's not fair to her, though. And I'm starting to think it's only having a negative impact on her. She's…I dunno…becoming withdrawn maybe?"

"I don't think so." Lucas argues. "Maybe she doesn't have a million friends, but the ones she does have love her. She lets us in…and she's not alone."

His quick little flicker of his gaze to her lets her know that statement is meant for her; a reinforcement of previous conversations. She nods at him, letting him know she received that message loud and clear.

"He's right." Brooke doesn't look too pleased to be saying she agrees with Lucas. "And anyway, I think P. keeps the world a little at bay because she's scared. But for her, that's not a bad thing."

Larry jerks a little in reaction to that, but Karen speaks up before he can. "Inner strength comes with a healthy dose of caution. Knowing your limits but also exploring the boundaries and trying to push beyond them." She turns more fully to the man beside her. "And Peyton…she's a strong young woman. You _know_ that, Larry."

"I know."

His tone is soft and his countenance becomes a little less distressed. She wants to reach over and hug him, but knows any attempt will only end in failure. She doesn't want to bring her mood down, so she contents herself to blowing him a little kiss; something she would do as a young girl watching his boat float away from the docks.

And oddly, their conversation makes her think about Ellie. A woman who blazed into her life, turned it upside down…and managed to make Peyton open up and love her, when she tried so hard not to.

That woman had inner strength. And she tried to teach Peyton to not be afraid of life.

With that thought ringing in her mind, Peyton stares at her unconscious self bemusedly. She's been thinking about herself as two different people; her 'actual' self and her…for lack of a better word, spiritual self. The self everyone can see and talk to, but who can't interact with them. And the self that the majority of people can't even _see,_ but who can go out and learn about life.

And…she's _happy_ to now think of herself as these two separate entities. Because that means 'she' will never be alone; she'll always have 'her' to depend on. That no matter what happens in life, no matter who _does_ or _doesn't_ show up, Peyton will always, _always_ have her own strength to make it though the bad stuff.

Lucas was right the other day; she does tend to see the positive possibilities for other people. Her problem is that she never considered them for herself. Sometimes she has to make the first move…for _herself_. No one else will do it, if _she_ can't do it for her.

Peyton's mind spins, thoughts flooding in almost faster than she can process them.

Ellie, with her decision about drugs and having to fight the battle of quitting them. Not because someone did it for her, but because _she_ did it. With her choice of adoption and the strength it must have taken to deal with it all. Not just giving up a baby, but staying sober during pregnancy and choosing a family to raise her child. And from what Peyton understands, Ellie went through the process alone…no family, no boyfriend, no real person to confide in. Ellie fought hard through the drudges of life and ended up at peace with herself.

There's Karen, who only had a handful of people to support her while she single-handedly raised her son and built a business. Another person in Peyton's world who exudes inner strength.

Peyton absently lets her eyes fall on the woman in question, but doesn't break from her musings.

Karen's still exhibiting that; now having to deal with losing the man she loves, right before they were to start their life together. And yes, she does have many people willing to be strong _for_ her…but she needs to do it, too.

Because sometimes people _can't_. Like Jimmy.

Peyton ducks her head, falling deeper into her thoughts.

She realizes Jimmy struggled with himself. She can't say she knows with what issues or why or for how long. But she can say that outside influences didn't help him any. With everyone around him fairly shouting that he was _nothing at all_, he needed to have a solid core of strength. He needed to know he could depend on himself to get through it. But instead, he fell and couldn't find his way out again.

It's natural, especially at their age, for self worth to be tangled up and built around other people. It's natural for people to get caught up and do something they never would have done before, simply because others valued the act. Or _de_valued it.

It hurts her heart to think about all the kids who can't see past that. The kids who do things that lead to self-disgust. The kids who fall and never recover. The kids who cry out to the world for help…only to be ignored. Or brushed aside. Or not even heard.

Jimmy was one of those kids. Who fell so far, he believed a desperate act was his only choice. He hadn't had the chance to build a strength that could survive everything he suffered.

She can learn from that. She _has_ learned from that. To trust herself. To know when it gets really bad, she can find the strength to keep pushing through because it _will_ eventually get better. Life usually does.

She doesn't have to be _afraid_ of that. It hits her again, that fear is exactly what she's been feeling. Fear of dying, fear of living. If she fears both ends, then maybe that's how she got stuck in between.

Maybe this limbo world is simply _fear_. And the lack of trust she has in herself to handle really living life.

She idly raises green eyes, meeting the slight worry in blue. Lucas has a tiny frown on his face as he watches her. She offers him a smile, but his worry doesn't dissipate. She shrugs and shakes her head simultaneously, aware she's sending mixed signals but not knowing how to say what's on her mind. So she opts not to speak.

"What do you think, Lucas?" Brooke asks, diverting both blondes' attention.

Lucas sends her an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Brooke, I didn't hear what you said. My mind wandered."

The brunette frowns, but repeats her question. "I asked what you thought about having a beach party for the whole school when Peyton wakes up?"

He makes a face. "I don't know, Brooke. Doesn't seem like something Peyton would like."

It isn't, but Peyton loves Brooke for the thought. And for the fact that—though stilted and a little cold—she's making the effort to be civil towards Lucas. Because she loves Peyton and Larry; she doesn't want to cause any additional trouble for them during this time.

Her best friend just shrugs, "Well, we can always ask her later."

Karen changes the subject to Nathan and Haley; asking the two teens about what's been going on with their friends.

While they talk, Peyton closes her eyes and returns to her musings; letting the voices of people she loves wash over her. She picks out her best friend's giggle as she recounts for Karen the day they all shared funny memories. She hears her dad protest the idea of her dating a musician. And Lucas' insertion that she would find a certain idea hilarious instead of embarrassing.

Peyton smiles to herself, taking a moment to savor the feelings in that room. These people currently sitting by that hospital bed are there for one reason only; they love her. They believe she can regain consciousness. They believe she can handle living.

She knows she can, too. So she'll do better at seeing that. She'll do better at not letting fear win; at trusting she can handle what comes next and be _okay_.

Their voices meld into a somewhat indistinguishable cacophony, making her frown slightly. She struggles to focus on an individual voice, but it's difficult. Confused, she attempts to open her eyes and sit up straighter.

Neither happens.

She feels…heavy. And tired. And more than a little confused. Everything feels disconnected and overwhelming. She can barely wiggle her fingers, though still strangely comforted by Brooke's hand surrounding hers.

There's a burst of sound before silence falls.

**0.o o_o o.0**

"Oh my god!" Brooke's cry draws everyone's attention as they fall quiet. "She just—I felt—she—her hand moved!"

Larry darts up from his chair, leaning over his daughter and gently cupping her head as he croons, "Peyton? Sweetie, can you hear me?"

Lucas holds his breath, heart pounding as he watches riveted from his seat.

"P. Sawyer? C'mon, do it again, okay?" Brooke's voice cracks, as silent tears track down her cheeks.

Peyton's eyelashes flutter and her head shifts a little.

"Peyton? Baby, wake up." Larry murmurs, leaning closer over her.

And he lets himself cry when he sees green eyes hazily focus on his face.

* * *

**A/N: Like I said, there's 2 more chapters after this; the next one is about 85 percent done, so look for it in a few days. Let me know what you thought!**


	14. Little By Little, Day By Day

**A/N: Thank you everyone for the wonderful reviews! :) Special shoutout to those you don't have accounts for me to respond to: Shelby, cayt326, and Becca; I'm glad to hear you're enjoying my story!**

**I don't own OTH, it's characters, or most of the things in "'quotes'" like that. I do own the path I've taken these characters on, as well as any and all mistakes, since I'm not beta'd. (If you see any, feel free to pm me, lol).**

**Chapter title comes from lyrics in "Heaven (Little by Little)" by Theory of a Dead Man.  
**

**Happy reading!**

* * *

**Ch14: Little by Little, Day by Day**

He can't stay still; pacing the halls in agitation, running his hand over the back of his neck repeatedly, and tapping his fingers against the wall whenever he pauses long enough to lean against one. It feels like hours or days have passed, when it's only been minutes.

"Lucas." Karen softly rests her hand on his arm when he goes to move past her for the umpteenth time. "Relax. We'll find out in a few moments, okay?"

He sighs deeply, jiggling his foot as he stands by his mom. "I'm just...anxious."

He's not the only one, either. His eyes track Brooke as she once again leaps out of the chair she'd barely sat in. Karen reaches out and catches the brunette's hand. "We all are." She addresses her son, before turning her attention to Brooke. "Sweetie, calm down."

Brooke nods, "I know, I know. I'm just so nervous! And I want to see her."

The three of them fall into silence for a moment. Lucas' foot unable to keep still and Brooke having taken to twirling her hair with her free hand. He notices his mom's not as serene as she's trying to pretend, because her eyes are intently glued to the door. The door behind which are a group of doctors examining Peyton and talking to Larry. The door behind which holds the answers they're all desperately waiting for.

Once again, Lucas takes to pacing, ignoring the small sound of displeasure from his mom. He turns on his feet to start back, looking down the hall in time spy his brother and best friend rushing towards them.

"Lucas!" Haley exclaims, skidding to a stop in front of him. "What's going on? How is she?"

He shakes his head, "The doctors are in there right now. We don't know—"

"Hopefully they finish up soon." Brooke interrupts, coming up beside them. "Larry will let us know as soon as they know."

"Okay." Haley nods.

Nathan looks a little confused. "I thought…when you called, you said she woke up."

Lucas sighs. "Her eyes opened."

"I pushed the button to call the doctor, who kicked us out." Brooke continues.

"They're running tests to see how she is, or something." Lucas finishes.

Karen gently herds them to the chairs against the wall. "We have to be patient a little longer. We'll know soon enough."

They've all barely taken a seat when Brooke shoots up again, stalking between the chairs and the door to Peyton's room.

Lucas hears his mom sigh at the teen's movements, but doesn't pay attention. Instead, he stands and resumes his pacing.

He freezes when the door opens, the doctor and Larry exiting the room. He watches the older man shake the doctor's hand with a _thank you_.

The doctor scarcely takes his leave when Brooke replaces him at Larry's side. "What'd he say? Is she okay?"

Lucas stands right behind the brunette, not wanting to miss hearing the answer; he's so close, he's almost stepping on her. He's vaguely aware of his mom, brother, and Haley coming up behind him.

"She's okay." Larry grins.

Lucas slumps in relief, rubbing his eyes to clear the sting of tears behind them. Thank god.

"Really?" Brooke's hoarse voice calls him back to the moment.

"She's fully awake?" Nathan queries at the same time.

Larry nods, leaning against the door and regarding their little group. "Dr. Randall explained that she's awake and cognizant, but it's not like the books and movies, you know? It'll take a while for her to gain full awareness, but it's a natural sleep now."

"What do you mean by full awareness?" Nathan asked.

Haley breaks in before Larry can answer, "I read that she may be a little confused at first. Probably ask some of the same questions a few times and forget things that just happened."

"Yeah." Larry agrees, nodding at her. "She'll be really out of it for the first day or so and will probably sleep more than not. He said when she's able to stay completely awake for a few hours at a time, they'll start some physical therapy for her leg."

"When does she get to come home?" The question comes at him in stereo, spoken by both Brooke and Karen.

He smiles. "They want her in the hospital for at least a few days to monitor her. They still don't know why she was in a coma or why it lasted so long, so they want to make sure nothing surprises them."

"Better to be safe." Lucas whispers with a nod, speaking mostly to himself. He's worried. He's also anxious to talk to her and see what she knows about recent events.

He's a little scared to find out, too.

"She's sleeping right now, but you guys are welcome to come in." Larry offers, pushing away from the door and opening it.

Lucas is one of the first ones through, and not surprised at all when everyone piles in behind him.

She's _okay_.

**0.o o_o o.0**

Everything's heavy and she's _so_ tired. Exhausted, really. And confused. About a lot of things. Mostly things she doesn't feel like thinking about right now. So she doesn't; falling back into a welcoming darkness.

-x-

A murmur has her struggling towards awareness, trying to understand what's going on around her.

"Hey Sweetheart. G'morning."

Her eyes focus on her dad's face, confused for a moment. She's too tired to think much about it though; she knows she's in the hospital and she knows about the gun shot wound to her leg. She, however, doesn't know why everything feels so far away.

"Hi, Daddy." She's a little surprised to note how breathy and dry her voice sounds. She tries again, "It's morning?"

"Yeah, baby girl. It is." He smoothes his hand over her head, comforting her with the gesture that was always present in her childhood.

She blinks up at him, "What happened?"

While he explains everything, her thoughts drift in and out. It's hard to focus. It's hard to distinguish between words. It's hard to _feel_ anything.

It's hard to stay awake.

-x-

She can hear them talking around her, over her, and about her. She wants to participate, but she's barely hanging onto awareness by a thread. So she just listens.

"What time is it?"

"Why, do you have a date?"

"Yeah, my mistress is waiting for me at home." She thinks she smiles at the sound of Nathan's sarcasm. "No, but my mom left a message last night to call her this morning. Just wanted to know the time."

"It's 9:20." The sound of his voice has a little jolt shooting through her body. She feels like there's a reason why, but she can't grasp it.

"What do you think of this color for her?"

"I think she'll probably punch you. That color is gross, Brooke."

"_I_ like it, Haley."

"It looks like someone vomited Pepto Bismol."

"Nice one, Luke!"

"No one asked _your_ opinion." She's a little stunned at the bite to that statement. She wonders if the two are fighting. That could explain the cold tone of her best friend.

She wonders why she feels so odd around everyone. Like things are different. Like she sees them differently.

She lets the feeling go as she drifts off.

-x-

"So I was thinking…sleepover!" Brooke announces with a grin. "Like the kind we had when we were little."

But her smile doesn't reach her eyes like normal. And Peyton _does_ notice the strain her best friend is trying to disguise behind false cheer. She's also experiencing a sense of déjà vu regarding the brunette that she just can't place. Like a tiny grain of knowledge trying to fight through the murkiness that is her mind; gone before she can hold it.

But she nods a little, trying to lift her hand towards Brooke's. Her throat feels like sandpaper as she manages to respond. "Sounds…good…B."

Brooke catches her hand and brings it back down to rest on the bed enclosed in hers, "But no kicking this time, okay?"

She manages a small, sleepy smile. "_You_ kick…not…me."

She doesn't hear an argument to that statement, because she ceases hearing anything. She just sleeps.

-x-

"Good afternoon, Sleeping Beauty!" Haley sings out as she bounces into the room.

Peyton smiles tiredly at her and nods. "I feel like...I can sleep...for days."

The other blonde smiles, too, taking the chair by the bed. "You have been. The doctor said you'll probably be tired for a while. Helps your body heal."

Peyton makes a face. She's a little tired of sleeping. "What day?"

"Still the same one." Haley answers with a soft smile. "You came out of your coma yesterday afternoon. And we were all here visiting this morning."

"Stories." Peyton states firmly, something telling her they all spoke about funny ones.

Haley tilts her head confused. "Not this morning. We all just talked about random things."

Peyton frowns. She thought...

"Hey, Hales. She awake?" Lucas comes into sight, giving Peyton a grin when he meets her eyes.

She sleepily smiles back, "Hi."

"Hi." His voice is a warm rumble, soothing her.

Fighting a yawn, Peyton fumbles for the controller and tries to blink dry eyes to focus on the buttons.

"Here, let me." He easily confiscates the device from her hand.

Haley peers around his arm, "What do you want to do, Peyton?"

"Down." She mumbles through another yawn. "Want to…rest."

"'As you wish.'"

Peyton vaguely wonders why Westley and Buttercup pop into her head; she hasn't even watched that movie in months. She does love it, though. And she loves the intimate quality she thinks she heard in Lucas' response. It comforts her to think it was there.

She gives another sleepy smile to the two faces looking down at her, closing her eyes for just a second. They hurt and need to rest…

-x-

"...it's aaaa-liiiive!"

The little squeal as a response is enough to have Peyton jerk awake.

"Hey, P.!" Brooke turns at her movement and grins at her.

Peyton wrinkles her nose, "Hey, B." She pats the bed beside herself, searching for the controller.

"Here, I got it." Brooke jumps up and helps her adjust the bed until she's in a reclining position.

"What's that?" She's relieved to hear her voice come out a little clearer and stronger than it has been.

"Dinner." Nathan supplies. "You have broth and dancing Jello."

"That's not food."

"How did I know you'd say that, kiddo?" Her dad laughs, bending down to kiss her head. "You need to ease your stomach into it, not jump right into a buffet."

Nathan laughs, "It's Peyton. And food."

She smiles at him, then turns to find Haley. "Same day?"

Her friend nods with a smile.

Lucas shifts into her line of sight, "You've been pretty out of it. How're you feeling?"

She takes a moment to really think about it. Physically, her leg hurts and she feels a little like her body belongs to someone else. Mentally...she's not sure. She still feels odd. She also thinks that maybe she's mixing up reality with some dreams or something, based on the uncertainty that's hovering. "Okay, mostly."

"Well, P., lets get some dinner into you and bump that up a notch, okay?"

Peyton frowns a little at the forced perkiness Brooke's exhibiting and the fact the brunette just brushed Lucas aside like he was an annoying bug. Last time she could remember, Lucas and Brooke were attached by the lips and cooing crap at each other.

Reality is far different than she remembered.

-x-

She slept comfortably for most of the night, only waking a few times. So she felt almost normal again by the time visitors trooped in after breakfast.

She's laughing with Brooke and Haley as the former relates a childhood cheerleading story, when her grin fades into a look of concern. Lucas is leaning back in his chair, frustration painted on his face as he watches them.

"You okay, Luke?" She asks gently, ignoring Haley's startled jump at her change in focus.

"He's fine." Brooke dismisses abruptly. She frowns, backing up a little, "I mean, considering."

Peyton knows she's talking about Keith. Her dad had filled her in last night after everyone else had left. She grimaces an apology, hoping her carelessness hadn't hurt him. She feels a little guilty that they were just laughing, when he has to be hurting. She knows how she felt right after her mom had died.

He shakes his head with a sigh. "I'm okay, _considering_." He mocks Brooke's turn of phrase. "But I'm concerned about you."

She ducks her head, feeling herself blush. She knows he doesn't mean it the way she wants him too, but it's nice to hear. Almost as nice as some fragments of a dream she's sort of been recalling.

"Oh, Peyton, look!"

She pushes her dream to the back of her head and gives Brooke's magazine her attention.

-x-

"Yay, Peyton!"

Peyton laughs at her nurse, Jessica, who gives a little hop before scribbling on the chart she's holding. "Let me guess, you were a cheerleader once upon a time?"

Jessica rolls her eyes at the teasing, "Yeah, yeah. Don't judge me, though."

"Only if you promise not to mock my cheer habit." Peyton grins. "I'm trying to quit. It's toxic to my health."

"I'll make a note on the chart." Her tone is dry as she scrunches up her face. She glances at her stop watch. "Two more minutes."

"Okay." Peyton sighs, wobbling on her crutches. Its late afternoon and she's been awake for hours at a time throughout the day, so they decided to proceed with some physical therapy. She began with simply standing—with help—to get her head used to being vertical again. For this session, she's graduated to holding herself up with crutches and maneuvering around her room on them.

"Wow, Sawyer. That's sexy. Really."

She turns to watch Nathan come into the room, letting the door shut behind him and sticks her tongue out at him. She's aware of her massive bed-head, non-designer status hospital gown, and the sheen of perspiration on her face from her physical exertions; probably not the best look she's ever sported. "I'd like to see you try it."

"I'd rock it." He shrugs with an easy grin.

Jessica interrupts, "Okay, Peyton. Let's get you back into bed." She helps the blonde ease into bed, leaning the crutches against the wall. "So they're in easy reach if you need them. How do you feel?"

"Like I just ran a marathon." Peyton responds, catching her breath. It really did take a lot out of her; she's exhausted and trembling.

"You'll get stronger. It'll just take some time." With one last pat to Peyton's arm, Jessica smiles at Nathan and lets herself out.

"That bad still?" Nathan's grin had turned into a worried frown.

"Just getting used to using my muscles again." She breezes, not wanting to discuss it at length, like she had with her dad after her first session. "Where's Haley?"

"I see how it is. I'm just not as loved." Nathan teases, taking a seat next to her bed. "Haley and Lucas are helping out at the café; dinner rush was already starting and my mom needed help. Where's your shadow?"

"My dad?" She guesses, knowing that he's been there practically every second since she gained consciousness.

He laughs. "Yeah. Or Brooke."

"My dad made her go home and actually get some rest. Also to eat real food, so I'm pretty sure she'll be contributing to the dinner rush. I made a deal with my dad to do the same, so that's why they're both gone." Peyton explains.

"Okay." He fidgets uncomfortably, his earlier lightheartedness fading.

She considers him carefully. "Nate? You okay?"

"Yeah. I am." He takes a deep breath and lets it out. "It's just that I wanted to talk to you. While you're conscious."

She gives him a weird look. "Ooo-kay…"

He blushes a little. "That came out stupid. I did talk to you, while you were in the coma. But I wanted to tell you again, now that you can hear me."

"Tell me what?"

"That I love you." When she freezes, he bursts out laughing. "Dude, not _in love_, love. Just friendly love."

Peyton stares for a moment, then pulls back her hand and whacks his arm pretty hard. "Don't scare me like that! I was about to freak out."

"Nice, Sawyer. That reaction wouldn't have hurt my feelings at all." He wryly states. "If they had been serious feelings, you know."

She rolls her eyes. "_Dude_," She mocks, "You're married."

"I know." He responds simply, falling serious again. "I was actually talking to Haley a few days ago, about how much you helped me when she was on tour. And that I never did thank you for that. For caring, when it seemed like no one else did. I told you that…and just wanted to make sure you heard me this time."

She frowns, suddenly feeling a little cold. It's not possible. "Did—Nate, I—we had this conversation already, right? I mean, I feel like we did."

Nathan stares at her, face paling a little bit. She only stares back, unsure once more about reality and her perceptions of it.

He gives a quick shake to his head. "Um, I don't think so. But, like I said, I did tell it to you when you were unconscious, so maybe you heard…" His sentence trails off as he carefully studies her.

Peyton doesn't quite understand the intensity of his gaze, but if what she _thinks_ happened…but it couldn't have. It was only a dream. Right?

She tilts her head and purses her lips for a moment. "Nathan? When you were in a coma after the car accident, did you have some weird dreams?"

He shrugs and meets her eyes. "I did have a weird dream that I kind of remembered when I woke up. It was a giant 'what if', you know? I dreamed that Dan chose Karen and what life would be like if I was in Lucas' position."

"Oh." She's slightly disappointed because her dream felt so real at the time. Still does, in some instances. "I think I had one. I remember talking to a bunch of people, including you. You told me thanks for being there for you and then said you're here for me and to wake up."

He chokes, eyes going wide.

"Nathan? Are you okay?" She leans forward, snatching her water cup off the rolling table by her bed and offering it to him.

He accepts it, taking a quick drink before staring at her. "I basically did do that." He briefly glances at the closed door behind him. "And I _swear_ I saw you sitting here…with yourself, when you tried to tell me you were trying to wake up."

"That's not possible." She blurts out. But her mind whirls all the same. In her dream, she was her, just having a conversation with Nathan. Completely normal. And obviously not true, since she was in a coma and unable to speak with him.

"Yeah, you're right." He shakes his head and gives her a tremulous smile. "I think I was just sleep deprived at the time and seeing things I wanted to see. Maybe you just heard me and incorporated it into your dream?"

She nods, still feeling weird, but deciding that explanation makes sense, too.

It's not until he leaves, after a few more moments of small talk, that she realizes something. If she was dreaming her side of the conversation, how did he know what she _tried_ to say? And that she couldn't say it…or in her dream, that _he_ couldn't _hear_ her say it?

It freaks her out a little and makes her heart monitor speed up. Everything's more confusing than she expected since she woke up. She doesn't know what's real anymore.

-x-

"Bye, love you P. Sawyer." Brooke bends down and hugs Peyton tightly.

She returns it, murmuring, "I love you, too B. Davis. Have a good night."

Her dad's next, taking a few moments to just hold her, "Call me if you need anything…or want company."

"Okay." Peyton sighs with a fond smile. "But I'm so tired, I'll probably sleep the entire night through. Physical therapy was brutal."

Larry chuckles and kisses her head one last time before turning to the chair with his collection of magazines and leftovers.

She leans back in her bed and smiles as she watches him, as well as Brooke, Lucas and Karen, gather their things to leave. She slept hard after her visit with Nathan, only waking in the last fifteen minutes—just in time for visiting hours to be coming to an end.

"You go ahead, I'd like a moment alone with Peyton."

The blonde in question furrows her brows, regarding Karen with curiosity. The woman gestures her son out the door behind Brooke and Larry; he turns and gives Peyton one last unreadable look that leaves her unsettled. Every time she's seen Lucas that last few days, he had been annoyed, angry, or hard to read; she's not sure what's going on with him, but it worries her.

She grimaces faintly and then shoves those thoughts to the side as she gives her attention to Karen. "Is something wrong?"

"No." The brunette replies, a soft smile gracing her features as she moves closer to the bed. She sighs. "I wanted…I guess I'm being a worried mother, but I wanted to see where your head was at with everything. I know no one's really talked about it since you woke up."

Peyton remains silent as Karen perches on the bed by her hip and gently wraps her hand around Peyton's. It's comforting. And bolsters her courage to say something she's wanted to say since she found out. "Karen…I'm _so_ sorry about Keith."

She gives a jerky nod and her grip tightens; but the tears welling in her eyes don't fall. "Thank you." It's a muted whisper that sends a lump to Peyton's throat and has her returning the pressure against Karen's hand.

Peyton blinks away tears and manages a steady tone, "This may sound dumb given the circumstances, but I do want to apologize for not being there after…" She trails off with an absent wave of her free hand.

Karen looses a garbled chuckle and shakes her head. "Oh, sweetheart, you don't have to apologize for that. I'm just glad you're okay…we all are." Her expression turns intent as she focuses directly in Peyton's eyes. "And don't for a _second_ blame yourself."

Startled, Peyton rips her gaze away and lowers it to their joined hands. In a way, she does feel a little guilty. While no one has said anything, Peyton knows Lucas was in that school with her. And she can guess he was the motive behind Keith's going in. If not for that chain, Keith might very well be here.

She also can't help feeling like she's already dealt with these thoughts and issues. Maybe she dreamed it. She can't recall everything she dreamt, but the various feelings of déjà vu that have come over her since waking point to the possibility.

"Hey." Karen lightly touches Peyton's cheek, making her look up. "Did you hear me? _None_ of this is your fault in any way."

With a jerky nod she takes a deep breath, holding it for a second before saying, "I know that…intellectually, I _know_ that. But I—I'm _devastated_ for you and Lucas. I wish I could change this…but I can't."

"Me, too." Karen nods as well. "I wish I could go back in time and change a lot of things. Do things differently, say things I never did, or take back things I shouldn't have said or done. But I can't. No one can. We can only move forward and continue living our lives. Never feel _guilty_ for being _alive_."

The tears Peyton tried so valiantly to hold back break free when she looks up to see Karen's wet face. The older woman's expression is a picture of broken bravery, hinting to Peyton that maybe those words were also something Karen needed to hear; to work past whatever unwarranted blame she attributed to herself. Peyton simply tugs their clasped hands to her chest, shifting her weight to pull Karen into a tight hug and murmur soothing words.

Karen returns the embrace, sighing into Peyton's hair as she gathers her composure. They stay that way for a moment, simply giving and taking comfort. That's all either one can do about the situation.

The moment is broken when a nurse enters the room. She ignores the emotional atmosphere and cheerily announces, "Visiting hours ended five minutes ago. Our patient needs to rest."

Peyton subtly rolls her eyes at the nurse's tone, pulling away from Karen to offer a small smile. "Thank you. For being here, for keeping my dad company, and for caring." She opens her mouth, taken aback, but Peyton stops her with a shake of her head. "It really means a lot to me, Karen. So, thank you."

Karen nods. "Of course." She slides off the bed and leans over to smooth Peyton's hair from her face. "Get some rest. We'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay. You get some rest, too."

She waves Karen out and idly watches the nurse check and record her vitals before leaving her alone. She has a lot of thoughts swimming around in her head. She's also trying to catch hold of the elusive fragments of her dream, trying to understand why she feels like she's repeating conversations and feeling differently around her friends.

Trying to understand why she doesn't feel as guilty about her part in it all as she kind of thought she would. Why she _feels_ like there's been closure for some things, when she _knows_ very well there wasn't.

Still, she's almost too tired to focus. The day was a long one; physically trying and emotionally confusing.

Maybe tomorrow will bring the clarity she's searching for.

**0.o o_o o.0**

Lucas looks over at the clock on his desk, moving into action as soon as he notes the time. He slides off the bed, careful to be quiet as he quickly dresses and grabs his car keys.

He's on a mission.

Peyton's been awake for three days—mostly—and he hasn't had a moment alone with her. Every time he went to visit, someone else was already there. When he did have a few minutes of her company to himself, she had been sleeping.

He can't take it anymore. He had tried to subtly bring conversations around to see if she remembered recent events, but either she didn't understand or someone would interrupt and change the topic. It's been the ultimate test, stretching out his patience and consideration for everyone else's need to be around her, too.

By now, he's a professional at the undetected late-night jaunts to her hospital room, easily sliding past the nursing station and into her room. Making sure to lock the door, Lucas edges forward to turn on the lamp and take a seat by a slumbering Peyton.

It doesn't take long for the light to disturb her sleep, causing her to grumble indistinguishably as her lashes flutter.

The surprise on her face makes him smile a little, as he finally relaxes for the first time that day. This time, there will be no interruptions.

"Luke?"

"Hi." He says softly, "How are you feeling?"

She reaches for the controller, raising the bed to a reclining position before she answers, honestly, "Confused."

He tilts his head with a tiny smirk. "I snuck in."

"Why?"

"To talk." Lucas gives a half-shrug. "And to check on you."

Peyton arches her eyebrow, sleepily scowling; he thinks she looks more cute than scary. "I'm…okay. A little sore and kind of _sleepy_. I've been practically talking all day."

"Not to me."

She gives him a bewildered glance. "We talked. A few times."

"No, we didn't. I _tried to_ a few times, but got interrupted a lot."

Giving him a shy smile, "Sorry."

"What'd I say about saying sorry?" He lightly teases with a chuckle.

Lucas can't deny the zing of hurt that arrows through him at her blank look. He can tell she doesn't understand the joke and is not sure how to respond. "You don't remember." It's a statement more than a question, a bitter taste filling his mouth as helplessness wells. He wanted her to _remember_; to not forget what happened between them while she was in limbo.

"I—I don't think so." Her tone is questioning as she levels wide green eyes at him.

Tamping down the hurt, he sighs. "What's the last thing you do remember? From before you woke up from the coma, I mean."

If he's honest, he's hoping for a little more than the hesitance she's exhibiting as she studies him.

"The last thing…would be the library. When I…yeah." Her face flushes as her gaze falls.

He can't help the quirk to his mouth as he easily follows her train of thought, battling against the grin that wants to break free at her embarrassment.

"Well…okay." He leans forward, "But there's more. And only you and I know about it."

"What do you mean?"

"To start with…I love you."

He struggles to maintain his calm when she rears back in automatic denial. "What! _No_—no. I mean, not like _that_." She beseeches in a panic, "Like a friend, right? Because—in the…what I said, in the library—"

"Hey, hey, hey." He cuts her off. "I remember what happened in there, too. And you're wrong right now. 'I love you. I'm _in_ love with you.' _Not_ as only my _friend_."

Lucas watches her scramble around for something to say, looking a little like a deer caught in headlights, as the stunned silence lingers between them. He's impressed when she quickly gathers herself together, turning on him with a haughty glare.

"You love Brooke. Your _girlfriend_." The confidence in her tone doesn't quite match the misery lurking deep in her eyes.

He laughs; just tosses back his head and lets go. It's either laugh or cry; they already had this discussion. He's unsure if this one will turn out as well as the last one.

"Lucas! What are you _doing_?" The hissed question has him fighting for control.

Once he's settled, he sighs heavily. "Peyton, you've been in a coma for a while. You've missed some stuff."

She scrunches up her face, "Clearly."

"Your sarcasm would wound me if I didn't find it endearing. And sexy."

"_Lucas_!"

"Jeez." He offers her a lopsided, boyish smile. "Okay. Shorthand version: Brooke and I are broken up, _and_ we're both okay with it, more or less. You and I," he gestures between them, "Are kind of…something, or whatever. Together, I think. You just don't remember that well yet."

She stares at him in patent disbelief. He doesn't continue speaking, content to wait for her busy mind to latch onto something to say. He simply watches her as she sinks into her thoughts.

Lucas idly wonders what _is_ going through her mind right now; he's positive she has to be beyond confused. But he also hopes that there's a part of her that knows what he's talking about. Or at least believes him right now.

"I—while I was unconscious, I think I had a dream." She admits slowly, narrowing her eyes in reflection. "I don't remember _all_ the details, just some pieces. But I do remember a lot of feelings—some were happy ones."

"Good." He says simply. "'Happy feelings' is a good place to start. And, Peyton, it _wasn't_ a dream, trust me. I can fill in some of those details for you, because I was there, too."

Peyton gives him a weird look and tentatively queries, "Do any of those details involve singing to you somehow, or is _that_ just a horrible dream moment?"

Lucas smirks and then warbles, "Lean on me, when you're not strong/and I'll be your friend/I'll help you carry on…"

She lets out a startled scoff of laughter, obviously in shock. He catches her fluttering hands in his, making her jump a little as her eyes dart to his. He only shrugs half-heartedly.

"How—how is that possible?"

"I don't know. It just was." He speaks earnestly, taking hope from the fact she's not pulling her hands away from him. "What else do you remember?"

She sighs, "Um, a little about listening to people. A visit to the cemetery and something about Dan. And bits and pieces of talking to you."

"Well, if you tell me what you know, I can fill you in on some of the rest of it. If you want." He grins at her. "We can also do this another time, so you can process this now…or sleep."

She smiles, relaxing a little bit at his casual warmth, but still shell-shocked. "You kidding? I won't be able to sleep after this. Umm, tell me the rest."

Standing, he gently detangles their hands and eases down onto the bed beside her, careful of her leg. She scoots over a little, making room in an instinctive manner that makes him smile. His smile only widens when she naturally leans against him as she waits for him to speak.

He takes a moment to just cuddle her against his side, reveling in the _solid_ feel of her. She's _safe_, and alive, and fully _there_ with him. He only reluctantly loosens his hold when she tips her head back and looks at him expectantly.

He drops a quick kiss to her temple and chuckles at her small start. "Well, it's kind of like a bad movie or a creepy-ghost-of-Christmas type of thing." At her exasperated look he nods, teasing, "Your words, not mine. Clearly, you need to watch better stuff."

She gives him a feeble whack against his leg and mumbles, "I _like_ those movies…"

"I know." He murmurs, tugging her close again. He just needs to feel her; it makes her being there with him seem more real. "_Any_way, I got the shock of my life when I walked into this hospital room to see you calmly sitting in a chair by the bed…_right next_ to your unconscious self. You seemed just as surprised to see me, too. I thought I was dreaming, but you _showed_ me that I wasn't. That's how it started…"

* * *

**A/N: I don't own the lyrics to "Lean on Me" either. And for those who don't know the movie _Princess Bride_, Westley would tell Buttercup 'as you wish' as code for 'I love you' while he was just a stableboy and hadn't told her he had feelings yet, lol. **

**Please let me know what you thought! **

**I'm working on the final chapter now...I know what things I want to happen and cover, but if you feel there's something I didn't address enough, now is the time to tell me! :) **


	15. With A Little Help From My Friends

**A/N: I totally suck for the long wait and I know that. My first semester of grad school killed enjoyment of reading/writing for fun, by my having to do it for research, lol. So much so, I even had to go back and remind myself exactly what this is about...so I won't be surprised if you've forgotten, too!  
**

**The title of this epilogue comes from lyrics by The Beatles in the same-named song. I don't own the song, OTH, it's characters... I only own the journey I sent them on, as well as any and all mistakes as it's unbeta'd.**

**Special shout out to Cayt326, who motivated me to push through, finish this, and actually post it. Thanks! :)**

* * *

**Ch15: With A Little Help From My Friends**

"This is going to be an awesome weekend!" Brooke squeals, linking her arm through Peyton's as they head to the front of the cabin. "If only Rachel didn't have to come."

Peyton grins, "'Considering it's _her_ family's place, I really don't think we have an option.'"

"That sucks."

"What sucks?" Peyton turns to see Haley come up on her other side.

Brooke laughs, "Rachel."

"Not as well as I heard _you_ do." The red-head mocks, brushing past the brunette to unlock the door.

"Bite me." Brooke responds sweetly, while Peyton exchanges an eye roll with Haley. The weekend won't be fun if these two continue to snipe at each other like that.

"Wow, this place is sooo cool!" Bevin squeals as the group troops into a living room.

"Thanks. 'Been in my family for years, but we hardly come here anymore. My dad mostly lends it out to clients.'" Rachel explains, tossing her bag onto the couch and gesturing around. "'The kitchen's fully loaded, there's a river for fishing, ATV's in the garage, plasma screen upstairs, and a hot tub in the back. There's five bedrooms, take any one but the master.'"

"Cool. Let's check it out." Nathan states, grabbing Haley's hand as they head for the bedrooms.

Bevin and Skillz, as well as Rachel, quickly follow the couple while the remaining teens look at each other for a moment. That leaves two bedrooms for four people.

"Let's just look first and go from there." Mouth suggests, obviously aware of the tension between the other three, and gestures for them to follow him.

Brooke shrugs, "Peyton and I can share, and you and Lucas can."

Peyton wrinkles her nose at Lucas as they fall in behind the other two, but she doesn't say anything. It's been almost three weeks since she's been out of the hospital and Lucas had filled her in on the missing pieces of her dream-thing that wasn't a dream.

She loves him, she knows he loves her…but there's Brooke. She's been acting weird. Peyton's not sure what to make of her best friend's recent behavior—the extra perkiness being forced out, the jumping up to coddle Peyton during her recovery, and the blatant sidestepping of _anything_ to do with the school shooting. As the days passed, Brooke seems to be having more difficulty hanging onto normal. Her behavior isn't overtly obvious, but Peyton _knows_ her.

She's worried about the brunette. And she doesn't think throwing Lucas-related issues into the mix would help the situation. So they've taken this time to simply let things settle and wait for life to calm down for all of them.

Peyton can hear everyone chattering as they explore and divvy up the rooms, but she's content to lag behind and take in the feeling of excitement in the air. This weekend could be a great chance for everyone to find their way back to their usual routines.

"Oooh!" Brooke half-shouts, shoving open the door to the last room. "Bunk-beds! I get the top, P. Sawyer!"

"Hey!" Mouth protests, "The other room has only a full size bed. I'm not sleeping that close to another dude." He turns to Lucas, "No offense."

"None taken." Lucas raises his hands in a pose of surrender. "I fully support that argument."

Brooke stays stubbornly quiet as she raises her eyebrow at them. Peyton huffs, "Brooke, seriously? We can share the full and let the guys have that room."

"Fine." Brooke pouts, entering the other room, which is located across the hall.

Peyton follows her in, closing the door, and laughing at her best friend. "I know you have a thing for bunk-beds, but you can survive for one weekend."

The brunette dimples and jokes, "I don't know. I mean, I already share a bed with you every night. I was kinda looking forward to being able to roll around without bumping into you."

"Me, too." Peyton laughs, falling onto the bed. "I have bruises from you _bumping_ into me!"

She sticks out her tongue, joining the blonde on the bed.

They enjoy a short silence before Skillz can be heard shouting for everyone to gather and make some plans. Both girls slide off the bed and meet up with the rest of the teens in the kitchen.

"Okay," Nathan starts, "I don't know about you guys, but I'm gonna grab a quad and explore this place."

"Sounds good to me!" Lucas immediately seconds the plan.

Bevin bounces in place a little, "I _love_ riding! I'm in."

Both Skillz and Mouth agree as well, the group pausing when Rachel speaks. "We only have four quads."

The five teens stop and consider.

"You guys go ahead. I'll switch out with someone later." Mouth volunteers.

Lucas gives him a look. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm a little hungry. I'll eat first, ride later." He laughs.

"Cool. We'll be back in about half an hour to see if you wanna go, dawg, okay?" Skillz said, motioning between him and Bevin. "You know I'm not much for this nature stuff."

"It's fun, baby." Bevin broke in. "You'll see!"

The foursome head out to the garage, leaving Mouth and the rest of the girls behind in the kitchen.

"Well, I could eat." Peyton announces, sliding onto a stool at the kitchen bar counter.

Haley nods, taking the other stool. "Me, too! What'cha making us, Mouth?"

He makes a face at them when they giggle, but opens the fridge to study the contents. Peyton looks over when Haley nudges her, the other blonde tilting her head to the table where Brooke and Rachel have taken seats. Luckily for them, no catty comments have escaped yet.

"How long do you thing they can be civil?" Haley whispers.

Peyton shakes her head, "Knowing Brooke…and Rachel, probably only long enough for us to blink."

Sure enough, as soon as the words pass her lips, Peyton hears the falsely sweet insults of the other two.

Haley groans, then chuckles. "Well, this should be fun."

"Mmhmm."

"Hey you guys, I'm feeling like a sandwich. That okay with you?" Mouth breaks in.

Feeling a little guilty, Peyton says, "You don't really have to make us lunch, Mouth."

"Yeah. I was only joking." Haley tells him, with a soft smile.

"I know. But it's not that hard to set out sandwich makings." He grins. "Then it's every man for himself."

"In a group of girls, that means you've already lost. The saying _is_ 'ladies first', right?" Brooke teases, coming up to join him in the kitchen and searching the cupboards for plates.

Rachel leans against the counter, watching Haley start to organize the things the other two are putting out. "Is there any cucumber in there? I want some for mine."

"Umm…yep." Mouth hands one to Brooke who tosses it at the red-head, frowning when she easily catches it.

Peyton stays seated and watches while everyone starts assembling their lunches. It's been over a week since she got off crutches; her leg is mostly healed, but still gets a little stiff once in a while. This is one of those times.

"Peyton, you okay?" Haley asks in concern.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Leg's a little sore, that's all."

"I'll make you a sandwich so you don't have to get up." Mouth offers. "Just name what you want on it."

Brooke gently nudges him aside. "That's okay, I got it. I know what she likes."

Peyton smiles her thanks at the brunette, knowing better than to argue with the expression on Brooke's face. She leans forward to speak but gets interrupted when Bevin bounces back into the kitchen. "Hey, Mouth! Lucas and Nathan found a boat and decided to go fishing right now, instead. Wanna join me and Skillz?"

Mouth glances down at the empty bread on his plate then shrugs. "Hell yeah. I'll eat later."

"I'll use that bread." Peyton volunteers, as he and Bevin make their escape. "Spicy mustard, no mayo please. Okay, B.?"

"Yeah, yeah." She mock grumbles with a small giggle, "Just call me Chef Davis."

Rachel laughs, "Making a sandwich doesn't count as _cooking_."

"In Brooke's world, it kind of does." Haley teases, lightly bumping her hip against Brooke's as she passes her to rejoin Peyton at the bar.

The brunette makes a face. "Ha, ha. I didn't know Mac 'n Cheese counted, either, _Haley_."

"Of course it does." Haley breezily replies. "It uses the stove, so I say it counts. Plus, I can make a lot more than that."

"What about you, Brookie?" Rachel half-sneers. "Any skills beyond a sandwich?"

She shoots back, "A lot more than you'll _ever_ have."

"Eww." Peyton interrupts. "Before this turns into a dirty thing, let me stop you. I actually _want_ to get my lunch down."

Haley nods, swallowing the bite she had taken. "And keep it there, thanks."

Rachel just shrugs, taking her finished plate and heading to the stairs. "I'm going to eat and see what's on the movie channel."

The other three just wave her off absently, Haley going back to her own plate and Peyton lightly stretching her leg against the bottom of the stool.

"And…voila." Brooke sets one plate in front of Peyton and pulls a second towards herself. "Lunch is served."

"Thank you, Chef Davis. A culinary work of art." She grins at her best friend, taking half of the sandwich and toasting it towards the brunette before taking a bite. "Yummy."

"Of course it is. I make _great_ sandwiches."

Haley scoffs. "If you don't have to use a toaster oven. Then they're inedible."

"Haley! That was _one_ time!"

Peyton just laughs. Brooke and things requiring an oven of any kind _never_ mixed well…any of the times she attempted them.

**0.o o_o o.0**

Lucas smiles contentedly as he casts out his line, shifting on the wooden bench of the boat. He looks over at Nathan, taking in his brother's pensive gaze at the reel on his fishing pole.

"Hey. You okay?"

"Hmm?" Nathan looks up. "Oh, yeah I'm fine. Just thinking."

Lucas turns, facing his brother directly. "About what, Nate?"

"This." He adjusts his position, using one hand to dig into the pocket of his jeans. "Check it out." He holds out his hand to Lucas.

The blonde takes the tiny golden circle, slipping it onto the tip of his finger and turning his hand to study it. He knows what this is. But he's confused. "'Haley's ring?'"

"'Yeah. I swiped it a couple of minutes ago.'" Nathan shrugs, grinning at his brother as he starts reeling in his line. "'I need you to hold onto that for me.'"

"'Why?'"

The brunette casts another line and chuckles lightly. "'Because I'm gonna ask her to marry me.'"

Lucas squints his eyes at his brother, taking in the other boy's smirk. "'I'm sorry, but didn't you already do that?'"

"'Yeah, but…I was thinking about Keith…and your mom. And how they never got a chance to stand in front of their family and friends, and tell everybody how they feel, you know?'"

Lucas nods, a little sadness leaking in at that thought. There was a lot his mom and Keith never got the chance to do. A lot Keith will never get the chance to experience.

"'Haley and I never did that, either.'" Nathan continues, "'So, now that we're back together, I want to do things the right way. So…you gonna help me out?'"

"'Yeah.'" He smirks and meets his brother's eyes. "'But you do know Haley's gonna freak when she notices her ring's gone.'"

The boys laugh aloud at that; both knowing how Haley can be, especially when she's in a panic.

There's a short companionable silence as they cast and reel in their fishing lines, only the lapping of the water against the boat filling the air.

"Nate?"

"Hmm?"

"You know there was nothing wrong with how you and Haley got married, right?"

Nathan flashes him a quick grin. "Oh, I know. And it was great, but…I think it'll be even better to celebrate with our family."

"Yeah." Lucas smiles, nodding his head. "You're right. You should grab good things while you can, and celebrate with the people you love."

The darker-haired brother glances askance at the blonde and clears his throat. "Like…Peyton?"

Lucas is at a loss of words; he didn't realize he was that transparent. And it's not something he wants to talk about right now. "Hey, you catch anything yet? I'm not sure there's actually fish in this river."

"Don't change the subject. Especially that _badly_." Nathan rolls his eyes. "I don't know what's going on, but I think something is."

He sighs deeply, debating with himself. But if he can't talk to his brother about this, who else? "Would you think I was horrible if I said something was going on?"

"No. Why?"

"Because Brooke and I haven't been broken up all that long. Because Peyton's been through a huge trauma and doesn't need any more stress. Because I'm still grieving and shouldn't make any big decisions in my current mental state." Lucas reels off the laundry list of reasons rapidly. All the literature on grief and surviving trauma warn against things like that.

Nathan raises his eyebrow and gives his brother a weird look. "Your mental state seems okay to me. It's been a couple of weeks and Peyt hasn't freaked out or anything, so I'm guessing she's healing fine. So you and Brooke haven't been broken up for a long time, what does that have to do with anything?"

"Well," Lucas starts, "It makes me seem fickle. Or uncaring about Brooke's feelings."

His brother shrugs. "I started dating Haley only a few weeks after Peyton and I broke up. Then I married Hales a few months after that. The heart loves who it loves."

"This is different, though." He's not sure how to begin to explain the convoluted mess of how it's different.

"I don't see it." Nathan shrugs, casting out his line again. "Except that Brooke and Peyton are best friends, where Haley barely knew Peyton when we started dating."

"And you don't think that's not going to cause issues?"

"It could. But so what?" He levels a look at his brother. "Life's too short to worry about _everything_. Sometimes you have to just…focus on you, man."

Lucas sighs, casting his line a little harder than necessary. It wasn't _that_ easy.

Nathan lets his words linger before asking, "How does Peyton feel about the whole thing?"

"I don't know." Lucas snaps, before taking a deep breath to calm himself. "We've been hanging out like usual the past few weeks and haven't talked about it. I think she's worried about Brooke and how us being together will affect her and their friendship. Peyton's scared. I don't blame her, though…just look at what happened last year."

His brother shakes his head. "Last year you snuck around behind Brooke's back. This is completely different. You guys haven't done anything and you've been broken up with Brooke for almost a month, now." He pauses, "You and Peyton _haven't_ done anything, right?"

Lucas lightly shoves him and makes a face. "No. Well, actually, I did tell Peyton that I'm in love with her."

"Wow." Nathan sits back, looking a little stunned. "What'd she say?"

"She loves me, too. And now she's worried about Brooke."

Nathan sighs. "Sucks, man."

"Yeah. I don't know what's going to happen next."

He stares down absently at his fishing pole. He really can't blame Peyton for worrying about her best friend, considering what had occurred between them the year before. But he's also tired of basically being pushed aside for the girl. Brooke's aware of _his_ feelings about Peyton; she'd asked him to be honest with her, which he was.

It's Peyton who needs to make the next move.

"Well, where do you think Brooke's head is at with your guys' breakup?"

Nathan's question breaks the silence abruptly, making Lucas jump a little. "Um. I haven't really talked to her since Peyton woke up. Before that, Brooke seemed to understand where I was coming from, but she said she just wasn't ready to stay friends. She wanted time."

"Maybe Peyton needs time, too. To make sure you and Brooke really are over."

"What does that mean?"

Nathan rolls his eyes. "Man. Last year, after all that crap, I thought you and Peyton would end up dating. But you didn't. Then, this year, I come back from High Flyers and you're chasing after Brooke. _Now_ you have feelings for Peyton? I don't blame her for doubting if that's true."

It takes all he has not to punch his brother. Lucas grits his teeth as he reins in his emotions. He seethes, "_That_ is crap. I love Peyton. I'm not going to say that I didn't love Brooke, because I did, but it's different. I've worked through my feelings about Brooke, and what they were and weren't. I've told Peyton that, too. There's _nothing_ for her to doubt regarding how I feel about her."

His brother shrugs one shoulder. "Then why are you waiting around like you're guilty of something? Like you have to put your happiness behind whatever obstacles pop up? Haley and I learned that things are always going to be happening, and that you have to _make_ the time to be okay. Like my plan to marry Haley again, with our family present. Life's too short to waste time _not_ going after what makes you happy."

He whips his head around, studying his brother's smug expression and realizing that the stupid comment about Peyton was Nathan's attempt at playing Devil's Advocate. By doing nothing, he can't expect something to happen. He can't wait for someone else to take a risk for him. And he can't continue to let life—or his own issues—put everything ahead of his and Peyton's being together.

It's up to him to go and be happy.

**0.o o_o o.0**

Peyton looses a deep breath as she slides into the heated, frothy water. Settling down on the bench that rims the hot tub, she stretches her healing leg in front of her and reaches down to lightly knead the muscles in her calf.

"Don't you just love having a medical excuse to soak in a hot tub?" Brooke asks, reaching to pull her dark hair into a sloppy bun.

Peyton smirks, "When have you ever needed _any_ excuse?"

"Hmm. Right." Brooke grins, leaning back and making herself comfortable right next to Peyton. "But this way, we can at least tell Rach-hoe to go away. You need to do heat therapy without being bothered by her bitchiness."

She rolls her eyes at her best friend, feeling it would be more prudent to simply ignore the jibes at their hostess. It wasn't like she'd be able to get Brooke to actually stop, anyway. Why waste energy arguing a lost cause, when it seemed to be second nature for those two to take snipes at each other.

Peyton tilts her head back, letting the steam swirl around her as her thoughts wander. She's not really surprised when they find their way to Lucas.

She feels guilty for kind of holding him off lately, but she'd needed to do some thinking. She's remembered a little more of what happened while she was unconscious, but not all of it. She has vague recollections of Brooke telling Haley that she hadn't trusted that Lucas or Peyton wouldn't betray her the way they had junior year. And there's a memory of Brooke saying she tried to pretend those issues away by sometimes joking about them.

Things Peyton hadn't known before that. Things that pointed out the shaky ground their friendship was resting on. Things she'd put off talking to her best friend about, due to Brooke's recent odd behavior.

"Peyton? What's wrong? You seem out of it."

She blinks out of her mental trance, taking in the concern on the brunette's face. Well, now seems like a pretty good time to talk, since they're both pretty relaxed. "Just thinking. B., we've done a lot of talking since I woke up, but never about the day of the shooting—"

"You needed to get better from that, first." Brooke interrupts, a slight edge to the tone of her voice. "I don't think it's the best topic of conversation when you're trying to relax, either."

Peyton shrugs, a little uneasy about her friend's vehemence, but also figuring everyone came away from that day with their own issues. She won't drop it, but she can at least ease back for a moment. "Okay. We haven't talked about anything that has to do with Lucas, either."

Brooke freezes, bringing her gaze to Peyton. "What about him?"

"I dunno." Peyton says. "I woke up, and you were weird around him. All you said is that you guys broke up. Nothing else."

"What else is there to say, Peyton?"

"How you're feeling? Where's your head at? Anything."

The brunette sighs, taking a moment to close her eyes before leaning forward, propping her elbows on her knees and regarding her best friend. "I'm okay now. I mean, we're not gonna become, like, best friends or anything, but I don't hate him." She shrugs, "Maybe I did at first, but not anymore."

Peyton latches onto that thought. "Why did you hate him?"

"Does it matter?" Brooke shoots back, "We broke up, end of story."

"It's not, Brooke. I've learned things aren't always that cut and dry, you know?"

With those words, she watches Brooke wince, before the brunette switches seats, sitting so she can better face her best friend. Peyton feels a little bereft at the sudden move, but calms her rising uneasiness with the thought that they're finally going to be honest with each other.

"Look, Peyton. A lot happened between me and Lucas. And all of it just caught up with us recently."

"Including me?" Her question is soft, but effective.

Brooke rears back, widening her eyes as she blinks owlishly at the blonde. "Wha—I don't even know what that's supposed to _mean_."

"It means I've done a lot of thinking." Peyton tells her, leaning forward a little to make her point. "Including about what happened last year. I thought…I thought we were okay about that now, but little things have made me realize we're not."

"Like what?' She crosses her arms defensively, scowling at the blonde. "Because I think we're _fine_."

Peyton nods gently, "At the moment, yes. But where's your head at the rest of the time? _Truthfully_."

Brooke's quiet for a while, seemingly taking in Peyton's words and figuring out her own. Peyton stays silent too, not wanting to rush something that needs to be treated carefully.

"Honestly?" Brooke finally replies. "I told you before, that I expected a guy to screw me over. But Lucas seemed different, so it was surprising. And painful. But what hurt worse, was that _you_ did it."

She nods, feeling the lingering guilt from her past actions. "I am sorry."

"I know." Brooke nods. "But while you were in the hospital, I did some thinking, too. And I realized that I blamed you, when it wasn't all your fault."

"You didn't trust me around Lucas." Peyton states.

The brunette shrugs, "I didn't trust _him_ around you, either. Or with my heart, because I was practically just waiting for him to hurt me. I tried again with him because I fell for him, but I never fully gave him my trust."

"And me?" She's a little more hesitant with this one.

"Well…you're you and I'm me." Brooke makes a face. "You're the closest thing to family I've got. I mean, I didn't _like_ when you two hung out together, but I thought it wouldn't happen that way again, that you wouldn't sneak around behind my back."

The weight of that is almost enough to make Peyton reconsider what she's about to reveal. Almost. "I need to tell you something."

"What?" Brooke's smile fades, wariness creeping into her eyes as she unconsciously hugs her arms around herself tighter. "Please don't say it has to do with you sneaking around behind my back."

"I didn't. I wouldn't do that to you again." Peyton assures her.

Brooke narrows her eyes. "Then…what?"

"That day, in the library, I—when I was sitting there with Lucas, I…" She takes a deep breath and rushes the last part, "I kissed him."

It's a blur of movement as Brooke practically leaps to her feet within the water, sending a small splash to rain down on them. "_What_? I can't _believe_ you, Peyton! You just said you weren't sneaking around behind my back, but you _were_!"

"I wasn't—"

"I can't believe I _trusted_ you!" She rants, pulling herself out of the water and reaching for her towel. "You really are nothing but a back-stabbing _whore_!"

"I thought I was going to die!"

Her words leave behind a ringing silence as Brooke stops all movement. Peyton can feel her chest heaving with every breath as she regards the other girl, hurt pulsing through her. Brooke slowly turns around, face ashen, as she drops where she's standing to sit cross-legged on the deck.

Peyton takes that as her cue. "Look, I was scared and…and _bleeding_, and Lucas was there, trying to take care of me. He promised nothing would happen and I'd be okay. I didn't really think he'd be able to keep that promise."

"So, you kissed him?" Brooke murmurs, obviously confused.

"I—yeah. I did. It wasn't really a romantic moment or anything."

"_Why_?"

Peyton softly shakes her head and scoffs, frustration overriding her concern for Brooke at the moment, as well as her intention to tread carefully. "Are you going to actually _listen_ to me this time? Because your track record with that in the past isn't exactly promising."

Brooke just sighs and slides back into the water, retaking her seat and maintaining their eye contact the entire time.

"I _am_ sorry about last year." Peyton starts, clenching her hands together on her lap beneath the water. "I never meant for that to happen. And I never wanted it to happen again. So I didn't let it."

"What do you mean?" Brooke blurts out, narrowing her eyes.

"I still had—have—feelings for Lucas." At Brooke's flinch, Peyton helplessly gestures with her hands before returning them to her lap. "I tried, Brooke, I _did_, to push them down and ignore them. It mostly worked. But sitting there next to him, and believing…that _that_ was _it_…"

Brooke dashes her hand across her face, her voice so low it's almost a whisper, "You didn't want to die without doing something about it."

"I wanted him to know. So, I told him I loved him, blamed it on the blood loss, kissed him, and then passed out. Basically." She gives a feeble chuckle as she finishes, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere.

Brooke gives a weak laugh, too, and just sighs heavily.

"When I woke up and remembered that…It was my plan to just ignore it and blame it solely on the moment if he asked. Plus, I knew he didn't exactly feel the same way, so it wouldn't mean anything to him. He wouldn't question that excuse."

Peyton holds her breath a little as she watches her best friend think. In all honesty, that's probably what she would have done, if events had played out differently. She had believed Brooke and Lucas were happy together; she wouldn't have intentionally ruined them.

"'You can't help who you love.'"

She squints at her best friend in a questioning manner. She's not sure what to do with that.

"I've always believed that." Brooke bites her lip. "Except, apparently…when it comes to you."

"I don't…"

"Last year, I blamed _you_ for falling for _my_ boyfriend, like you planned it. Almost…as if you deliberately decided to go after him and hurt me. I acted like your feelings could be turned on and off, even if mine or Luke's couldn't be. But that's not true. Or fair. With this situation…I can't be mad at you for what happened." She falls silent, leaning against the edge of the hot tub.

Peyton shifts closer, taking heart when the brunette doesn't move away. She hesitates only a moment before wrapping her hand around Brooke's.

She looks down at their hands, giving Peyton a trembling smile. "It could have been so much worse…"

That's when she starts sobbing, startling Peyton. "_Hey_. Brooke…don't cry, sweetie!"

Brooke folds into herself, shoulders shaking as she tries to speak through her tears. Peyton shushes her, pulling the other girl into her arms and gently rocking her side to side.

She holds her that way, crooning softly, for what feels like hours, but is probably only minutes. She doesn't know what just happened or why Brooke suddenly broke down.

Gently easing away, Brooke pulls her composure around herself. "I'm sorry, Peyton."

"Brooke." She's incredulous, believing both of them are past apologizing about this particular topic.

"I'm sorry for leaving you there—"

"Brooke—"

"No! I didn't even _look_ back, Peyton!" Brooke cries, giving a quick shake to the blonde's shoulders. "I just _ran_. Just…left you there, where you could have _died_! Alone."

"I'm glad you ran and didn't look back!" She can see her declaration both stuns and angers Brooke, but she continues before the other girl can speak. "One of the first things I did when I saw Lucas was to tell him I lost you. I was _worried_! When he—you don't know how _relieved_ I was when he told me you got out and were safe. I love you. I'm happy you got out and nothing happened to you."

All Brooke can manage is the barest whisper, "I love you, too, P. Sawyer."

"Karen told me, a few weeks ago, to not feel guilty for being alive, with what happened with Keith. I don't want you to feel guilty for getting out safely when you had the chance. Okay?" She turns Brooke's face to hers with her hands, wanting to see for herself that her best friend understands her words.

The brunette tears up and shakes her head. "But I should've made sure before I started running…"

"It happened fast. I remember that." Peyton keeps her hands on Brooke's face, speaking firmly. "It was crazy! And it's not like you _didn't _notice or look for me. You did. Don't let guilt make that seem unimportant, because it does matter to me. So…no more blaming yourself for anything about that day, okay? Let it go."

"Okay." Brooke smiles tremulously, giving a small nod. "Okay."

"Good."

They both ease back, sitting side by side, and letting the emotions of the past few minutes settle down.

"Sorry I called you a whore a few minutes ago."

Peyton laughs; for the first time in a long while she gives full rein to her laughter. When she catches her breath again, she gets out, "Oh, B. Davis. That's not something I was really worrying about, to be honest."

Brooke quirks a smile and shrugs, "Yeah, but still." She turns a little serious again, "And…A few weeks ago, I told Haley that the triangle-mess from last year was all of our faults, in some way. I want to apologize for putting it all on you, when you weren't the only one to act stupidly."

"Thanks." She says simply, not wanting to dwell on last year anymore. Because now, _now_ it feels like they could truly move beyond it. "That's very big of you."

"Yeah. But don't expect that to happen all the time now, or something." Her best friend warns, making a silly face at her. "I mean, we're only seventeen, I think we're allowed to have _small_ moments."

Peyton rolls her eyes. "Got it."

"Speaking of last year—"

"Nice segue."

"Thanks." Brooke continues, "Me and Lucas."

When she stops there, Peyton prompts, "What about you guys?"

"We broke up a few weeks ago, and you asked where my head is at about it."

Peyton nods, holding her breath a little. She's not sure what she wants to hear, honestly, but she wants it to be…hopeful.

"Well, 'you can't help who you love.' And while you were unconscious I asked him if he loved you, since he had gone back for you and everything. He said he did."

She doesn't know what to say, so she averts her gaze and knots her fingers together once again.

"I hated that at first, and I was mad for a lot of reasons. But now…after all this time, I realize that I'm actually _okay_. I didn't really need him like I thought I would. Like I said, I don't know if we'll ever be friends, but I'm…okay."

"'Why'd you just tell me that?'" Peyton finally manages.

Brooke reaches over and places her hand over Peyton's clasped ones. "Because life's short. We all know that better than most people."

"We'll be okay, Brooke." Peyton tells her, tangling their hands together. She means those words on a lot of levels; they'll get through everything just fine.

"I know we will."

"Hey!" They both look up to see Rachel bounding down the porch stairs towards the hot tub. "Are you trying to turn into prunes? Trying to heal your leg by boiling it? I'm going crazy here!"

"Why?" Peyton and Brooke question in unison.

Rachel stops, leaning over the rim. "Because _Haley_ has gone berserk! She lost her ring and I can't take it anymore! You two have better get your asses up and help her!"

"Her wedding ring? Nathan is going to kill her!" Brooke gasps out, exchanging a look with Peyton.

"No kidding. Or _I_ will." Rachel responds, turning on her heel and heading back for the house.

Peyton scrambles out of the water behind Brooke, wrapping a towel around herself as she follows the other two into the cabin; they have a ring to search for.

**0.o o_o o.0**

"Dinner!"

Hearing Bevin's announcement, Lucas starts back for the cabin. He'd gone for a walk to clear his head and formulate how to start a certain conversation with Peyton.

He takes the back stairs of the porch two at a time, coming to an abrupt stop at the sight of Nathan staring intently into a window, brow furrowed. Easing up behind him, Lucas follows his brother's gaze and frowns.

"You do know you're married right? To Haley."

"What?" Nathan turns to him. "I know."

Lucas leans against the wall beside the window Nathan has gone back to staring into. "So why are you staring at Rachel? Or…Peyton?"

His brother shrugs, sighing as he moves across the porch to lean against the rails. "You'll think it sounds crazy. I mean, _I_ know it does, and I'm the one who's thinking it."

He nods his head slowly, cluing into where Nathan's thoughts are at. He hesitates, because he's not sure if it's the smartest idea he's ever had, but he also thinks Nathan hasn't fully dismissed it like Peyton wants to believe.

"Are you talking about seeing Peyton next to herself when you went to visit while she was comatose?"

"She _told_ you about that!" Nathan whips his head around to stare at his brother, scowling.

Lucas nods, explaining, "She told me right after it happened, that you saw her when she tried to talk to you. She didn't really remember it after she woke up from her coma."

At that, Nathan simply stares, disbelief and confusion written all over his features. He runs a shaky hand through his hair. "_What_?"

"I saw her, too. The…well, the more ethereal her." Lucas shrugs lightly, though he feels anything but. "I was just as weirded out and still don't understand it. At all."

"Are you _serious_?"

"Yeah."

There's a brief pause, then Nathan chokes out, "How—I don't—howis that even possible?"

"I don't know. But it happened. She said it was only me and you, though."

Nathan frowns suddenly, "Wait. You said she _told_ you…" He trails off, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at his brother.

"She did." Lucas insists. "I was able to talk to her when I visited." He keeps his explanation simpler than reality, in order to create less confusion for Nathan. Plus, it keeps his brother from asking too many questions that Lucas simply can't answer.

Nathan's head snaps up. "Is that why you asked all those weird questions to Haley about Heaven and near death experiences, before telling me to go visit Peyton? That time you got upset and practically bit my head off?"

Lucas nods.

"I need to sit down." Nathan says softly, putting action to words and dropping down heavily onto the top step of the stairs.

"Ye-ah…It's a lot to take in." The blonde teen agrees, watching his brother carefully as he joins him.

Nathan looks up. "And she doesn't remember?"

"Bits of it. But no, not really. She thinks it was a dream she had." Lucas shrugs, "Which is good, if you ask me."

"Why?"

"How confusing would that be? I mean, I still can't wrap my mind around it and half the time I feel like I just made it up, you know? I can't imagine coming out of a coma and driving myself crazy wondering about the reality of it all. It's best that she thinks she dreamed it."

He nods and gives a short, abrupt laugh. "Yeah. True. I thought I was just seeing things, or something."

"_Or something_ is right." Lucas chuckles. "But Nate…don't make a big deal about this, okay? She's still not sure about a lot of things and I don't want to freak her out."

When his brother nods, he sighs in relief. He feels a little bad about lying to Nathan, but he figures it'll be easier on all of them if the weirdness dies out quickly. He knows Peyton actually does remember her encounter with Nathan—and knows that none of it was a dream—but the more focus they put on it, the more stressed he figures they'd all become. Some things just don't have answers.

"Okay. And I'll try not to stare at her anymore." Nathan promises, with a tiny grin.

"Good." Lucas claps his brother on the shoulder, standing from the stair. "The sooner we all just move past this, the better off we'll be. C'mon, dinner's ready; you don't want to miss out on the food."

Nathan laughs lightly as he stands as well, nodding. "Yeah. Let's go in."

Lucas covertly keeps an eye on his brother during dinner, watching as he teases the others and joins in on different conversations. It really does seem like Nathan is more settled than he was earlier. If he has to guess, Lucas figures that the interaction between him and Peyton, then the subsequent conversation about it, was really distracting Nathan. Now that he knew it wasn't all in his head and that he did have someone to talk with that understood, he seemed more at ease with everything. Which Lucas thinks can only be a good thing in the long run.

**0.o o_o o.0**

After dinner everyone had agreed on the decision to watch a few movies and relax before heading to bed. They were in the upstairs den involved in a spirited debate over whether to start with an action or romance film, when Lucas notices Peyton slip out the room. He waits a few seconds before quietly excusing himself and following her downstairs and into the kitchen.

"Hey." He doesn't bother to hide his grin at her soft shriek as she whirls around to face him, wide eyed.

"God, Luke! Make some noise or something."

He chuckles, leaning against the counter and watching her move around the kitchen. "What'cha doing?"

"Thirsty." She answers simply. "And not feeling the wine they have upstairs."

"Mmm." He murmurs absently, letting an easy silence fall as Peyton prepares a mug of hot chocolate. He shakes his head at her wordless offer, mind wandering to his earlier discussion with Nathan. Trying to decide if this moment should be his moment.

At this point, he just doesn't care. "Hey, Peyt?" He carefully lifts the mug from her hand, ignoring her startled expression, and tangles her fingers with his free ones. He leads her to the small study located behind the kitchen at the back of the house.

"Luke? What's going on? Are you okay?"

"Fine. Just think we should talk, and now seems to be as good a time as any." He closes the door behind them, gesturing her to take a seat on the small couch and handing over her hot chocolate. She sets it aside, turning to fully face him and gripping his hand between hers as she studies him with wide, worried eyes.

Lucas gives a soft laugh, using his free hand to lightly trace a finger over her eyebrow. "It's not bad. I promise."

"Then what is it?" The worry doesn't leave her gaze as she waits for an answer.

He sighs deeply, scrambling for a good way to start. "Well…um." He switches train of thought, settling for a safer topic for the moment. "Before dinner, I talked with Nate about his seeing you."

Her green eyes clear. "Oh. You mean, when I was technically in a coma? I thought he—"

"Nope. I caught him watching you and brought it up. He knows what happened, that he didn't make it up, or imagine things."

Peyton bites her lip, a sure sign of uncertainty. "Is he okay?"

"I think so." Lucas shrugs a shoulder. "I told him I had a similar experience. I think now that he knows a little more and that I get it, he's not so focused on it anymore."

"Good." Peyton softly nods her head. "I'm glad. Thanks for, you know, talking to him and everything."

He simply nods.

A short silence descends, but a small groan from Peyton ends it. "But somehow, I don't think that's what you wanted to tell me."

"How'd you know?"

A raised eyebrow is her only response. But he has to admit he's not surprised she guessed that's not what he meant to say. She always seems to know when he has things on his mind.

"I wanted…I guess we probably need to talk about us. I'm getting confused, here."

She looks startled. "Confused about what?"

He shrugs helplessly. "What we're waiting for, I guess. I mean, I know you said you were worried about Brooke, but it's kind of starting to feel like last year, when you gave me that speech about her being your best fri—"

"Luke!" She interrupts. "Oh my god. It's—it's not like that, okay? I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." He rolls his eyes, relief pushing out his earlier worry. "Just explain."

"Okay." She takes a few moments, obviously gathering her thoughts. "So, last year, I figured we shouldn't date because it would hurt her and up to that point she was all I had. This time, I intended to be with you regardless. I guess I've just been…distracted, for lack of a better word, because Brooke's been weird. And not about us, because she didn't know. Just…" She trails off with a vague gesture.

Lucas nods. Now he gets it; that it hadn't been worry or doubt about Brooke's reaction to her being with him, but about something else with the brunette. "So, she's been weird how? I mean, the few times I've run into her she seemed normal."

Peyton shakes her head. "Uh huh. She's been hovering, avoiding any serious talks, and—and just doing unusual things. Like the other night, I woke up because my leg was hurting and Brooke was already awake and staring at me."

He can't help a little scoff of laughter. It's a funny picture.

She gives him a quelling look. "Anyway. I guess I've been caught up in all of that. Plus, to be honest, I wanted to tell her first instead of her finding out by seeing us together or something."

"I get that." He smiles softly at her, "Have you been able to get any answers about her weirdness?"

She rolls her eyes; he guesses she doesn't like the emphasis he placed on the last word. Shaking her head at him, she answers, "Yeah, actually. This afternoon, while everyone was busy, we were able to talk about it all."

"What was it?"

"She felt guilty, because she ran out and I didn't."

He briefly closes his eyes, his hand automatically reaching for and engulfing hers. "I had talked to her about that."

"You did?" She looks at him in surprise.

"Yeah. It was after my first visit to the hospital. I came home and we had an argument about her avoiding seeing you and it came out. I thought she had worked through that."

She sighs. "I guess not."

"Maybe she just needed to talk to you about it, find out what you thought and not what I said you would think."

"Maybe."

He certainly hadn't expected this. Of all the Brooke related scenarios his mind had concocted over the last few weeks, this worry hadn't even made his list. But it makes sense; the only person who would know what Peyton thought about it was Peyton herself and Brooke needed to hear it from the blonde's mouth to actually believe it.

"Is she okay now, though?"

Peyton's eyes fly to his, blinking out of her musings. "Um, yeah. We dealt with that, put some other stuff to rest finally, and even talked about you."

He gives her an uneasy look. "What about me?"

"She knows how I feel. And we—she and I—will be fine, no matter what happens."

A slow smile curves his lips. "So does this mean you're ready to share us with the world?"

His heart drops when she shakes her head. But her smile when she leans closer makes him think maybe he misunderstood.

Peyton hooks a finger between two of the buttons on his shirt, using it to tug him towards her as she teases, "No way, I don't want to share. I like having you all to myself."

Her lips are only a fraction of an inch from his, so he takes full advantage. His mind dazedly recognizes that this is their first kiss since she woke up from her coma. Their first romantic kiss since they fell apart in junior year. And it's as amazing as he remembers.

**0.o o_o o.0**

"Hey, Peyton, you should know you have something on your face."

She pulls her mouth away from Lucas' with a chuckle, craning her head to see Rachel leaning against the door way.

Lucas groans from his position sprawled half underneath Peyton on the couch, "Can't you go away and pretend we don't exist?"

"Nope." Rachel smirks. "Skillz was about to launch a search party for Lusty Lips over there—"

"Hey!" Peyton exclaims indignantly while Luke laughs at her.

The red-head ignores the interruption and continues, "—Afraid you fell or something. Everyone's decided to ditch the second movie since no one can agree on anything, and then Bevin started telling this story about cheer camp. That's when we noticed you were missing it all."

"_I_ don't think we're missing anything." Lucas mumbles, only pouting a little when Peyton lightly shoves at him before maneuvering off his body completely.

She smiles down at him, wrinkling her nose teasingly as she offers a hand to help him up. She kind of forgets about the other girl in the room when Lucas clasps her hand in his and gives her such an intense look, she actually feels her mind go cloudy. She barely registers him rising to stand in front of her, as she gets a little lost in the deepening blue of his eyes. She drops her gaze to his mouth, letting out a soundless sigh as she leans to meet him halfway.

But she snaps back to the present at the loud cough from the door way. "Oookaay. Hate to break this up, but it's party time, people! Let's go."

"Damn." Lucas sighs, dropping his forehead against Peyton's. "Wanna hide away with me instead?"

She grins up at him as she gently eases back. "Awesome idea. _But_, I came up here this weekend to spend some quality time with people who aren't physical therapists."

A little chuckle passes his lips as he gives her a quick kiss and tucks her against his side as they move to follow Rachel out of the room. "But we can hide away later, though, right?"

"Oh, definitely." Peyton wraps her arm around his back. "After this weekend, we can hide away for as long as you want."

"I'll hold you to that."

Rachel makes a gagging sound, "Will you also hold the bucket when I lose my dinner?"

Peyton laughs, enjoying the sarcasm and the fact that Rachel didn't so much as blink an eye at catching her and Lucas together. It loosens the slight trepidation she has about their friends finding out; after all, everyone knows about last year and everyone knows about the friction Lucas caused between Peyton and Brooke. But maybe it won't be a big deal.

"Hey, Skinny girl, I was gettin' worried." Skillz speaks up as soon as they enter the room behind Rachel. Then Peyton sees his eyes drop to how she and Lucas are holding each other. A smirk appears, "But I guess I didn't have to."

She feels Luke tighten his hold as he says something to the other boy, but Peyton's attention goes completely to her best friend. Brooke gives her the tiniest smile that speaks volumes. It's enough to make her relax fully.

"We decided on Pictionary!" Bevin exclaims.

Haley nods. "But no teams, because we have an odd number."

"So?" Nathan counters, "It won't be the end of the world if one side has one more person. What's the point of playing if there's no way to win?"

"Wow," Luke chuckles, "Haven't you ever heard of having fun?"

"Winning _is_ fun."

"I agree." Rachel states as she takes a seat next to Bevin and Mouth. "I highly enjoy winning."

Haley rolls her eyes. "Fine. We'll do teams then."

"How about boys versus girls?" Mouth offers.

Sounds of agreement go up as everyone moves to rearrange themselves.

"Congrats, Sawyer." Nathan murmurs as he slides past her. "About time."

Peyton blinks, startled, but has to smile at the younger Scott brother. Honestly, she kind of agrees with his assessment.

"Sit by me." Brooke demands, tugging Peyton down. "You're good at this art crap."

"It's not crap." She automatically replies.

Rachel makes her way to the whiteboard and picks a card for instructions on what to draw. "We'll go first." She gives a wicked grin. "And I'll give a clue: we spent all day looking for one."

Next to Peyton, Haley immediately blushes bright red and sneaks a glance over to her husband, mumbling "I'm gonna kill her."

"I'll help." Brooke volunteers with a giggle.

"No fair cheating!" Mouth calls out. "I don't know what you looked for!"

"Me neither!" Skillz chimes in. "But draw the damn picture so I can guess!"

A scattering of laughs break out as Rachel complies, drawing a circle and two stick figures holding hands. On one figure is a triangle coming out of it's head. Peyton shakes her head; that level of artistic ability is just plain sad.

"What the hell?" Nathan demands. "Is that a killer shape dude?"

Bevin frowns at him, "Shhh! It's our turn so you're not allowed to guess!" She turns towards the red-head and yells, "Circus!"

Rachel looks at the board, then at Bevin and shrugs before shaking her head. In Peyton's opinion that wasn't a bad guess from the picture. But the clue she had given before starting definitely gave the answer away.

But Haley stays stubbornly silent. Brooke and Peyton share a look and then start to throw out random guesses. If Haley wants to keep it a secret, then they will, too.

After time is up, Rachel gives their team a dirty look. "Come _on_, how did you not guess that? Especially after today, Haley!"

Peyton sees Nathan and Luke exchange furtive and surprised looks. It doesn't take a genius to realize that they both somehow already know about Haley's wedding ring. Especially when her boyfriend burrows a hand into his pocket and hands something to his brother.

"My turn!" Nathan announces abruptly, jumping up to take his place by the whiteboard. "But it's only for Haley to guess."

"That's not how you play—" Mouth begins, but is quieted by Luke's nudge to his side.

Haley looks startled. "What? Nathan, why—"

"Guess, okay? You'll see."

Peyton shares another look with a bewildered Brooke before studying the dark-haired boy at the board as he focuses on drawing. She's intrigued about what's going to happen next.

"Okay." Nathan steps back. "It's a phrase."

Everyone silently stares at the board. There's only a very crude and simple scene. A stick figure kneeling in front of another one and holding up a circle.

Haley's hands fly to her mouth as she smothers a gasp. "Nathan…"

He offers her a shy smile, mimicking his drawing as he pulls out a very familiar ring. "Haley, will you marry me again?"

Peyton chokes up watching her friend nod fervently as she finds her way into her husband's arms. Beside her, Brooke starts squealing and Bevin looks confused.

"I thought you were married?"

"Shh, baby girl." Skillz tells her, tugging her into his arms.

After a few more moments Haley pulls away and asks about the ring. Nathan explains what he'd done and why, as Lucas shifts around people to sit right next to Peyton.

She leans towards him, "We searched all over for that ring. Even through sink sludge! Why didn't you tell me you had it?"

"I had better things on my mind earlier." He laughs softly, pressing a light kiss to her temple. "And he only gave it to me this afternoon, probably when you guys were looking."

"It's sweet though." She turns to smile at the couple holding court a few feet away. Everyone was excited and Brooke had a lot of questions about new wedding plans.

Lucas nods in agreement. "Yeah. It's a good idea, you know, to celebrate with people you love."

She catches the sad and wistful tone of his words and reaches over to hug him.

"Thanks, Peyton."

"For what?" She pulls back, meeting his calm blue eyes with hers.

He brushes a lock of hair from her face and gives her a soft smile. "For getting it. And being here."

She smiles back.

She _is_ here. Here to be with all the people she loves and who love her. Here to celebrate or grieve as the moments come and go. Here to get it.

"Thank you, too, Luke." She tangles her hand with his. "For all sorts of things."

By the look he gives her, she knows he understands. Because he gets her, too.

They break their small, intimate moment and rejoin the group of teens who are talking and teasing. The night passes with a lot of games, plans, ideas, jokes, and laughter.

As she sleepily leans against one of the couches, Peyton sits back and watches the interaction of her friends. Despite the recent tragedy and in spite of all the confusion and grief, they've managed to carve out time to just be teenagers. And she thinks that's important, especially being able to share this time with each other. To know that there are people who care and who will be there in support of the difficult moments.

"Where's your head at, Peyt?"

She blinks out of her musings to focus on the concerned gaze of her boyfriend. She offers a serene smile. "Just thinking. Where'd everyone go?" She looks around in bewilderment when she notices they're the only two in the room.

"To get ready for bed. Brooke said something about taking the first shower and getting hot water." He chuckles, scooting closer and tucking her against his side. "Did you fall asleep while you were thinking?"

Peyton rolls her eyes at his teasing, snuggling closer and changing the subject. "Want to hear something really weird?"

She feels him sigh. "Babe, with what we've experienced lately, weird feels kind of normal. What's up?"

"I was just…a few weeks ago, when I felt all alone, I just gave up, you know? Not like in an 'I accept dying' way, but more like, 'I'm broken and can't be fixed' kind of way. It was just…easier, I guess. But I was thinking about how different it is now compared to then. With everyone here, together, and you and me being together." She smiles to herself, making a small satisfied sound as she continues. "I'm…happy, you know? And right now, that feels easier than where I used to be. It's just a little weird to think about."

He's quiet for a long while and she's content to bask in the silence and simply be held against his chest. She lightly hums along to his heartbeat, calmly waiting for his response; she knows he'll have one because that's the type of person he is.

"It's a little out of context, but…'the world breaks everyone, and afterwards, many are strong at the broken places'. I think that fits with what you've gone through. Since you woke up from your coma and remembered what happened…I don't know, you seemed more _settled_ than before that day." He gives a soft shrug, gently running his hand through her hair.

Peyton sighs. "Yeah. I feel more settled, too. More…put together." She smiles, tilting her head to look at him, "Where'd that come from? I like it. It makes sense."

"Ernest Hemingway's _A Farewell To Arms_." Lucas laughs gently.

"Nerd." She teases with a small giggle.

He slides his hand down to poke her side, joking, "It's called reading. You should try it sometime."

"Nah." She replies breezily. "I'll stick to watching movies."

Lucas rolls his eyes and laughs. He shifts their positions, making it easier for them to look each other in the eyes.

She studies his features, not really sure what she's trying to see. But whatever it is, she finds it. It's buried deep in his blue, blue eyes, expressed with a level of intensity she doesn't know what to do with. Maybe with time, she'll get used to the way he looks at her. The way he has of looking _into_ her. Her heart takes a tumble as she leans forward.

He meets her halfway, taking her mouth in a long, deep kiss that has her thoughts scattering in the most amazing of ways. They remain lost in kisses for endless moments, before simply lying together, Peyton's mind hazily drifting on waves of drowsiness. It's been a long day.

Almost as if reading her mind, Lucas groans softly and detangles from her in order to stand. He offers his hand, "Come on, if we stay here any longer, we'll fall asleep."

"Mmm." She mumbles tiredly, taking his proffered hand and helping him pull her into a standing position. Immediately he tugs her into his arms and she feels him drop his chin against her hair. Peyton simply burrows closer against him and closes her eyes. He's comfy.

A chuckle rumbles through his chest, echoing under her ear and making her smile. "C'mon, Sleepy, let's get you upstairs and into bed."

Peyton snickers, "Hate to break it to you, but Brooke's there."

"Ha ha." He responds dryly, leading her towards the door. "You're funny. _But_, if she wasn't, I'd _probably_ mean it in a more lascivious way."

She lightly swats at him, but leans her head back so she can see his face better. "'I wish we could do something really sinful.'"

And the look on his face is worth a thousand words.

She laughs delightedly, tucking herself back into his embrace. It takes him a minute, but then he laughs, too. "Hey! You've read it."

"Don't sound so surprised. I do pick up one of those things occasionally."

"Yeah, but that's not the point. I think this means you're not allowed to call me a nerd if you can quote the book, too." He playfully grumbles as they reach her door. "Hey, c'mere." He slides one of his hands to the back of her neck, tilting her head for another kiss.

Peyton sinks into his, sighing happily when they part.

"I love you." He murmurs.

She gently nuzzles her nose against his, giving him the words against his mouth as she takes another kiss. "I love you, too."

One last kiss before he ushers her into her room, shutting the door between them.

She quietly moves to the ensuite bathroom and rushes through getting ready for bed. Peyton catches her own eyes in the mirror more than once, and right before she turns off the light she makes a face at her reflection. She's wearing the goofiest grin and it just won't go away.

She'll blame that on Lucas.

She crawls into bed next to a heavily sleeping Brooke and snuggles up under the blankets. She can still feel the smile stretching across her face, but she doesn't care. She likes it. It reminds her that it's been a good day spent with great friends and a wonderful guy she loves who loves her back. It reminds her to be grateful for the life she's living and how she's so far removed from how she felt mere weeks ago.

She's happy. And it's amazing.

_fin_

* * *

**A/N: And it's OVER! Let me know what you thought. And I hope I tied up all loose ends, but if you have any questions, feel free to ask. Thank you all so much for reading my first real story, and taking the time to review it along the way. I sincerely appreciated every time I heard from any of you and the time you took to let me know your thoughts. (even when I sucked at updating!) again, THANK YOU! :)  
**


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